


Until You Come Back Home

by ReneyyySprouse



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Canon, Comfort, Drama, F/M, Heartbreak, Hurt, Jamy, Lies, Peraltiago, Prison AU, Romance, Separation, Sexual References, Smut, Undercover, dirty cops, gen pop, jail sentence, life calendar, season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-03-04 18:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13370205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneyyySprouse/pseuds/ReneyyySprouse
Summary: 15 years. 180 months, 5,479 days, and far too many seconds to count. At first, Jake and Amy aren't sure how either of them will survive with a barbed wire fence and iron bars between them. But then, it all becomes clear. Jake doesn't expect Amy to wait 15 years for him at all. And Amy will do whatever it takes to get Jake home before his 15 years are even close to being up.





	1. Impossible Year

_There's no you and me,_  
_This impossible year,_  
_Only heartache, and heartbreak,_  
_And gin made of tears_

* * *

_Shoulders back, chin up, deep breath. Don't cry. Don't you_ dare  _freakin' cry._

_This was all Amy could come to tell herself, the harsh commands rotating through her mind over and over again. There wasn't even any reason to cry. Not just yet. There wasn't going to be. Everything would be okay. Surely. Everything was going to be fine._

_But just in case..._

_Amy sucked in another long breath as she continued to stare at the perfect scribbles of her life calendar hanging on the wall above her bed. She bit down on her bottom lip, swaying with hesitation._

_This wasn't part of the plan. None of this was ever supposed to be a part of Amy's plan. And maybe until it was all truly over with - maybe the wisest thing was to put the rest of her plans on hold. Just for now._

_Right as Amy summoned the courage to climb up onto the bed, her feet sinking into the mattress as she unhooked the calendar from the wall, the detective suddenly jumped in surprise at the sound of the bedroom door clicking open._

_A stunned silence was all that filled the room for a second or two._

_"What are you doing?"_

_Stepping down from the bed, Amy kept her eyes glued to the floor._

_"Ames?"_

_Her heart skipped a beat. His sweet tone accompanying her even sweeter nickname had always been her damned weakness._

_Bringing her soft, brown orbs up to mirror his own, Amy tried to force a small smile. His expression was filled to the brink with concern as Jake frowned at his girlfriend._

_"When did you decide you were just gonna' start winging it?" he asked with a slight chuckle, "No more life calendar?"_

_Amy heaved her shoulders up and down in a shrug._

_"What's the point?" she murmured, "Where's the point in any of it when our lives could be completely turned upside down in a few days?"_

_Holding in a nervous shudder, Jake was still for a moment. Up until that very second, he and Amy had only been carefully tip-toeing around the cold hard fact that not only had Lieutenant Melanie Hawkins framed him for a crime he didn't commit, but now he was facing fifteen years in prison for it. Fifteen years. One hundred and eighty months, five thousand, four hundred and seventy-nine days, and far too many seconds to count. She was yet to discuss it with him so blatantly._

_And perhaps what was worse than just that, was that right now, Jake wasn't even sure what he was meant to offer Amy in response._

_"Way to sentence me prematurely," he fumbled through some kind of joke, "You don't need to worry, no-one needs to worry, we've got the meat fork, remember? Our two prongs! We're innocent, we're not gonna' get sent to jail."_

_A couple of dull thoughts flashed through Amy's mind. She wondered if Detective Diaz was thinking as positively as Jake was. She also wondered who it was that Jake was truly trying to convince - Amy, or himself._

_"Yeah... yeah, okay, well, I guess once we know for sure that our life is back on track, I can just make a new one - "_

_" - Or," Jake spoke, quietly cutting her off. He gently took the array of card and paper and marked sticky notes out of her hands before she could crumble it all up into a ball, "We could just leave it right here and hang it straight back on the wall as soon as this nightmare is over."_

_Following his actions with her eyes, Amy feigned an appreciative grin as Jake tucked the oversized calendar behind her wardrobe. It safely stood against the wall behind the wooden structure, out of sight until it was needed again._

_As he looked down at her, a goofy smirked plastered across his face at his own sheer genius, Jake's appearance faltered at the uncertainty still pooling in Amy's eyes. The detective -_ suspended  _detective - sighed to himself. Jokes and laughter and gags clearly weren't going to be able to solve this problem for him._

_"Hey, but seriously," he spoke with a whisper, reaching his hand out and gesturing for Amy to take it in hers. She did so almost instantly, stepping closer to him as he coaxed her inward and grabbed onto her other hand just as tightly, "Babe, everything's gonna' be alright."_

_A shiver raced down Amy's spine as she locked her eyes onto Jake's, getting lost in all the twinkling emotion she could see dancing behind them. He gave her hands an affectionate squeeze. She swallowed a lump in the back of her throat, eventually nodding her head. Jake smiled at her again._

_"I'm not going to let anything come between us, and I'm not going to let anything take me away from you again. I promise."_

_Those familiar words started racing back across Amy's brain. Don't. Freakin'. Cry. Instead, she ripped her hands away from his and threw them around his waist, diving into his grasp and burying her head in his chest._

_Jake pulled her close where they stood in the centre of their bedroom. He leaned down and pressed his lips firmly, adoringly to the crown of her head as he kissed her, breathing in the scent of her hair._

_"I love you. So much."_

_His words sent goosebumps shooting up her arms. Maybe Jake was right. Maybe everything for he and Amy really would be okay._

_"I love you so much, too."_

* * *

"Guilty. On all charges."

Amy would never forget how she felt the moment she heard that accursed word.

Her heart had plummeted from her chest into the depths of her stomach with the same thud that Rosa had made when she collapsed down into her chair. Her mind had started racing with the same state of panic that Jake had been muttering through with his " _cool, cool, cools"_ over and over again. A coping mechanism of denial that she knew he was using to shield the insane fear that had instantly eaten at him from the inside out.

But that had all been four days ago. What Amy felt right now was much,  _much_ worse.

Sitting in the same courtroom, in the same seat, in the same unwashed pantsuit, Detective Santiago was frozen. Her hair was an unkempt mess and her eyes were red raw from a lack of sleep over most of the past ninety-six hours. The rest of the Nine-Nine were there as well, and Jake and Rosa were sitting before the judge's bench in handcuffs, having been released from their holding cells. But only temporarily, of course.

Today was their sentencing day. And Amy felt like her heart was about to shatter into a million unmendable pieces.

Jake was near thoughtless where he sat awaiting his fate. He didn't have the first clue  _what_ to think, or what to feel. He was drowning in an ocean of different emotions. Fear, anger, regret, misery. They all swirled in a sick mess in his stomach, warning him that he very well may have been on the verge of puking. And perhaps he would have, if he hadn't been distracted by the sound of a single, sad sniffle echoing from beside him.

Blinking just once, Jake turned to his left to fix his pale, brown eyes onto Rosa. Her head was facing down, emptily staring into her lap as she brought her cuffed hands up to wipe the corner of her eye.

Jake felt another piece of his heart break away.

"Rosa..."

Jake's tone was quiet and gentle as he reached forward to grasp at Rosa. But as she only snivelled once more and grumbled under her breath, Diaz quickly swatted him away.

"Leave it, Peralta," she snapped, clearly trying to conceal how upset she was.

Jake sighed, keeping his voice at a whisper, "Look, you and me are going to get out of this, okay? I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but one way or another the squad are going to - "

"It's not that," Rosa cut back in, "I can handle myself, and I can force myself to handle prison, even if it kills me."

Her words sent a haunting shiver racing up Jake's spine as he tried to shake off the nervous sensation, "Then, what is it?"

Rosa's eyes immediately shot back to the floor. She swallowed what Jake could tell was a reluctantly harsh lump in the back of her throat. And then, Rosa brought her voice to a broken murmur.

"It's... it's just," she paused with a sigh, "...Adrian."

Jake's expression softened in understanding, "Adrian?" he repeated, "Rosa, Pimento loves you, he's totally gonna' wait for you, you don't need to worry - "

"I know that. I know he'll wait," Diaz interjected once more, "But maybe that's exactly what's making me feel so  _goddamn_ crappy right now."

Falling to silence, Jake sensed his brow crease into a confused frown, "What do you mean?"

A fresh wave of hesitation crashed over Diaz as she scratched at her leg through her uncomfortable prison jumpsuit. Even in that very moment as she sat with her hands chained together and it felt like all hope was completely lost, even still, her fiancé was in Argentina exterminating scorpions (or housing more scorpions?) and trying everything he could to make his and Rosa's life that little bit better.

Adrian truly would go to the ends of the Earth for her. Only, Rosa wasn't sure if she wanted to let him do it anymore.

"I'm engaged to the dude, but for the past year it feels like we've been a part way more than we've been together. I can't keep doing that to him, man," Rosa explained. She turned to fully face Jake, her features frozen in a solemn expression, "I don't want to just sit back and let him throw away fifteen years of his life for me. That's not fair on him."

The last five words Rosa spoke struck through Jake like a bolt of lightning. He sensed his chest cave in so deeply that it felt like his heart had actually stopped for a terrifying second or two. His abrupt silence was so apparent that Rosa eventually turned away from him again, assuming that she had left him with nothing to say or think.

But Jake's brain was suddenly racing into overdrive. The sick sense of vomit was re-forming in his throat as he took a sad glance over his shoulder.

Charles and Gina both looked devastated. Terry was so furious that it looked like he was ready to rip the head off anybody who came within two feet of him. Even Raymond had succumbed to a clear mix of emotions, looking somewhere eerily between the same sadness and anger scattered throughout his squad.

But it was the expression on the figure timidly nestled in beside Holt that told Jake there really was no point in denying the reality that was slapping him hard across the face any longer.

As he stared at her, Jake wasn't sure if he even recognised Amy for a second. Not  _properly_ recognised her. Her face was white as a sheet, her shoulders were dejectedly slouched back, and her eyes were shadowed with painful defeat.

The last sentence Rosa had spoken was still cycling through Jake's brain as a thousand and one memories of he and Amy suddenly reappeared to him. Their first real kiss, their first date and their first 'I love you' made Peralta feel like he was invincible. But the insane sense of loneliness that consumed him from being separated from her for six months while he had been under witness protection in Florida still laced his mind with nightmares.

And finally, there was the emotion that had crossed him only a couple of short months ago when he had subtly turned to face her where she sat in bed beside him. April twenty-eighth was surely a date that Jake was never, ever forget. To complain about something as trivial as a spelling mistake in a crossword puzzle was the most typically-Amy thing he had ever encountered throughout their relationship. But it had also told Jake something that he still knew to be absolutely certain today. And that was how much he truly loved her. And how much he needed to make Amy his wife.

Fifteen years sure would be more than enough time to plan the wedding of the century. But something else Peralta knew was that he absolutely could not make Amy wait that long. For a wedding, or for him. That wasn't fair on her.

"All rise for the Honourable Judge Marinovich."

The sound of the bailiff's voice thundered throughout the courtroom and snapped Jake out of his deep trance as he gulped and came to his feet. He could hear the shuffling of his friends and colleagues nervously standing behind him, as well.

And as he took one last peek at Amy, and his beautiful girlfriend forced her way through a comforting smile and a confident nod of her head, that's when Jake knew what he had to do.

"Be seated," Judge Marinovich instructed, "Mr. Peralta, Miss Diaz, please remain standing."

The chains around his ankles rattled as he uncomfortably shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Jake was certain he would never get used to being referred to as  _Mister_ rather than  _Detective._

"Do either of you have any final thoughts you would like to offer the court before your sentencing?"

The words sliced through Jake like he was a day old lump of meat. He had seen through hundreds of trials headed by Judge Marinovich and heard him ask that question in his deep, monotone voice countless times before. But never in his life did Peralta imagine that  _he_  would be the one being forced to answer.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye as he began to hesitate his response, Jake found his vision coming to a standstill at the sight of Rosa all over again. The agonising heartbreak in her demeanour was still all to clear to him, no matter how hard his friend was desperately trying to remain strong.

She truly was one of his best friends - his  _oldest_ friend, a part from Gina. The memories from the Academy that Jake held with Rosa were some of the greatest of his entire existence. Rosa always had his back. And it was time for Jake to have her back one last time.

"I do, Your Honour."

The unexpected noise of the four simple words humming out from between his lips made Amy leap out of her skin. Her neck snapped up, her narrowed, brown eyes locking onto the back of her boyfriend's skull. She would have given anything in that moment for the power to peer into Jake's brain and see just what the  _hell_ he was thinking.

Judge Marinovich raised an intrigued eyebrow, "Mr. Peralta?"

Jake could all but feel just how much Rosa had stiffened in her place beside him. She peered right through him, trying every appropriate action she could to gain his attention, but Peralta only pushed on with a deep breath.

"Your Honour, there's something else you need to know. And that's..."

Jake took one last second. He glanced down at his cuffed hands sitting over his stomach. There was no getting out of this for either of them. But maybe he could make things just a little bit better for Rosa.

"And that is Diaz was only present at the last robbery."

Amy felt her heart completely stop.

"What?" Rosa quietly hissed under her breath, wrenching around to face him, "Jake!"

"I was the only one on my squad involved with the Golden Gang and all of their operations," Jake carried right along, "When Diaz uncovered everything and confronted me about what I was doing, I threatened to frame her for the whole thing if she didn't help me on this last robbery. The amount of money in her bank account only looks so similar to mine because I didn't want to create any suspicion surrounding what I did to her."

Santiago wasn't sure how many more of these hoops she could be thrown through before her system completely shut down on her. Just as she could sense a fit of hyperventilation worse than her dog allergies begin to creep up on her, Amy was rattled by the sensation of her captain's shoulders shaking slightly from his place beside her.

Amy was stunned. It wasn't like Holt to lose his cool, or project any kind of physical emotion, for that matter. Ever. Right when she began to question whether or not her captain had found enough despondency in himself to force a couple of sad tears, the detective soon found that the bizarre situation was actually quite the opposite.

Raymond was laughing. It wasn't a full blown, hefty belly laugh. Just a few quiet, chuckling murmurs to himself as he shook his head back and forth in disbelief. And it wasn't a laugh stemming from any kind of humour or hilarity, either. Amy could tell. Holt was simply laughing in ironic admiration of Jake's latest daring move of self-sacrifice.

Peralta always had been far too blindly loyal to his Nine-Nine family. It was both a blessing and a curse.

"Miss Diaz, can you corroborate Mr. Peralta's claims?"

Rosa had never wanted to stab Jake in the back so badly in her entire life.

She didn't know what to do. What she  _did_ know was that she only had an extremely limited window in which she could answer Judge Marinovich's question with even a lick of believability.

If Rosa confessed that Jake was lying, then her friend could quite possibly be charged with perjury. But if Rosa lied as well and threw him under the bus... who knew what could happen to Jake.

The tenseness that filled the air could have been sliced with a knife as Rosa finally spoke.

"Yes," she muttered, "Yes, Your Honour, I can. I was only involved in the robbery because Peralta blackmailed me."

A collective, shallow gasp emptied from the lungs of each member of the squad as Amy dug her nails deeper into the bruise that surely had to be forming on her arm by now. Jake sighed as well. He was equally proud of himself, but also completely terrified of what might happen next.

He glimpsed quickly at Rosa, smiling softly at her with a nod of his head as she stared back with an incredible amount of gratitude. When Judge Marinovich finished flicking through the papers at his bench and cleared his throat, Jake and Rosa both looked up at him and held their breath.

"Based on these newly provided details, as well as the jury's findings in this case..."

Jake's chest skipped a beat as he took a second to gently shut his eyes.

_Eyes closed, head first, can't lose._

"Jacob Peralta, for your convicted crimes against the New York Police Department and the State of New York, I hereby sentence you to serve fifteen years imprisonment in Riker's Island Maximum Security Prison."

Amy felt her soul shatter.

"Rosa Diaz, I sentence you to serve at Bedford Hills Maximum Security Correctional Facility for the duration of," the judge paused, making one final note on his papers, "Twelve years."

Rosa thought she was going to collapse back in her chair all over again. If her new most hated word was 'guilty', then perhaps her new most loved number was 'twelve'. There was certainly no doubt in her mind that her favourite  _person_ in that moment was no-one other than Jake Peralta.

"Court adjourned. Bailiff, please escort the prisoners back to their holding cells for transportation."

When Judge Marinovich's gavel came crashing down with a loud thud, hammering the final nail into the coffin that was Jake and Rosa's fate, Amy immediately sprung to her feet.

She blinked a few times in quick succession and swallowed back a whimper in her voice to stop any tears from flowing. The detective kept her eyes glued to her boyfriend, watching as Rosa slowly spun around and continued to stare at Jake in disbelief.

Hiding behind her mess of dark curls, Diaz stuttered over the start of a sentence -  _any_ sentence, anything she could think to say to Jake before she was hauled away from her friend for twelve years.

Raising his cuffed hands slightly to cut her off, Peralta merely shook his head.

"You can owe me a thousand push-ups for every year before me that you get out."

His voice was hushed and almost glazed right over her, mainly because Rosa still couldn't be certain that Jake had  _really_ just done what he did for her. She took one shuffled step towards him as her chains clinked around her ankles, but instead sucked in a sharp, surprised breath as the large, oaf of a bailiff standing behind her suddenly grabbed onto her upper arm.

Resisting the urge to struggle and fight away from him, Rosa subtly turned back to Jake one last time. And then, with a single, slight nod of her head, Jake instantly understood just how thankful his friend was.

The sounds of the rest of the squad calling to Rosa and spluttering through their tear-filled promises that they'd visit her soon quickly reminded Jake that he still hadn't been left totally alone. Not just yet.

He almost shuddered as he recognised one voice calling to him with a despairing softness amongst all the others that filled his head. Judge Marinovich's second bailiff was making a beeline for him from the very back of the courtroom as Jake finally swivelled around on the spot.

His eyes were facing the wooden floor. His hands were fidgeting with the buttons of his orange jumpsuit. He sort of wished he could just be dragged out of the courtroom as viciously as Rosa had been, leaving his impulsive path of recklessness behind him. But of course, the ever-stubborn Amy Santiago was never going to let that happen.

"Jake," she called to him again. When he finally looked up at her, all kinds of terror swirling in the brown water colour of his eyes, Amy held her arms open, beckoning her boyfriend towards her.

She could almost swear for some reason that he was mulling over something in his brain for a short second, but Amy quickly shook off the thought as Jake came within her reach.

She leaned over the wooden railing in front of the pews as far as she could and wrapped her arms around Jake's torso, locking her hands behind his back. He couldn't quite return her tight embrace seeing as he was still in handcuffs, but  _God_ , Amy didn't even care in that moment. She never wanted to let Jake go.

Amy forced down a sob, standing up on her toes to breathe in the scent of Jake's hair at the nape of his neck. Heaven only knew how long it might be until she'd be able to do that again.

"I'll get you out of here," she whispered in his ear, "However long it takes,  _whatever_ it takes, I don't care. I'll do whatever I have to do, Jake, I swear."

Amy's words sunk into the back of Jake's mind and made another shiver shoot all the way up his spine. He despised the thought of her putting her neck on the line for him and his mistakes. Obviously he and Rosa had been framed, but if only he had backed completely away from Hawkins' case when she first told him too, then  _maybe_...

Jake squeezed his eyes tightly shut, breathing out hard against Amy's shoulder. He wasn't really certain if he deserved his girlfriend's utterly unyielding defence of him. But what he  _was_  certain of, was that Amy sure as hell didn't deserve to have her life put on hold for fifteen, long years.

When the bailiff eventually approached them and grabbed him by the arm, Jake took a step back, daring to glimpse down at Amy.

As soon as he did, Amy felt her chest freeze over to ice.

The pain stung sharply at her ribs - just as sharply as the usual twinkle has completely diminished from Jake's eyes. That same twinkle that had been there just mere days ago when they had been holding each other in the middle of in their room and he had rescued her life calendar and kissed her and told her he loved her was suddenly just... gone.

There was something wrong. Something other than the fact that he was going to prison. Amy could tell just by staring into him. She licked her bottom lip, nervously opening her mouth to speak again, but before she could even get the words out, Jake was being dragged away by the brutish bailiff carelessly grasping at his jumpsuit. Santiago's murmurs were instantly drowned out by the rest of the squad calling out their sad goodbyes to their favourite son.

All the while, until he had completely vanished, Jake's eyes never left Amy's.

She didn't think it was possible for her heart to snap any further when it was already totally broken, but somehow, that was exactly what Amy felt as the courtroom door slammed behind Jake.

It was all exactly like she thought it would be. In the blink of an eye, Amy's life had turned completely upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and lyrics by Panic! At The Disco.
> 
> Strap in tight ladies and gents - if you came here looking for a sweet, happy time, I can't guarantee that's what you're going to get. At least not any time soon.
> 
> I'm equal parts nervous and excited to finally be posting this first chapter in my new story. I've been planning this in the back of my mind ever since Jake actually went to jail in the show (July-ish last year? Holy moly). I just hope I can keep the ideas flowing and give this story the justice I've built up for it within myself.
> 
> It's been a very long time since I've written a long multi-chapter fic, so you will pretty please have to bear with me :) I'm probably too much of a perfectionist when it comes to posting even a single chapter - I don't like to force my way through writer's block and end up posting something crappy just for the sake of posting at all. So if I need to take break for a couple of weeks, or even a couple of months in some cases, please know that its all in the best interest for the story's quality and my own personal sanity :)
> 
> With that being said, I would really love to hear what you thought of this first chapter! Any possible predictions this early on of what may end up happening with Jake and Amy and everyone else later are also very welcome :) I truly do appreciate any and all comments/kudos!
> 
> So, I suppose that just leaves me with saying... Until next time! x


	2. What About Us?

_What about love,_  
_What about trust,_  
_What about us?_

* * *

The walls were starting to close in on him. Jake could  _swear_ it. If it weren't for the very clear picture of the iron bars standing from floor to ceiling in front of him, Jake was certain that he would suffocate in what felt like his tight, airless cell.

He was pacing back and forth across the concrete floor in a bizarre attempt to calm himself, but Jake's breath was only shortening more and more with each anguished step he took. The harsh fabric of his orange jumpsuit was itching his skin so badly that it felt like there were termites aggressively chewing their way through his bones.

Jake was already going crazy. And he hadn't even made it to prison yet.

Peralta was still locked up in utter uncertainty in the courthouse's holding cell. He was waiting to be transported to what would become his new long-term residence. The thought of it all made Jake shudder. He had made the trip across the bridge and over to the island a million times before - to follow up on a fresh lead or to interview a prisoner. But he had never stayed any longer than an hour or two. This time when Jake arrived at Rikers, he wouldn't be leaving for  _fifteen years._

Just when he was starting to think that his ever-nearing future was going to make him puke up all his emotions throughout his cell, Jake suddenly jumped at the sound of the heavy door at the end of the corridor creaking open. He was still for a moment, but when he heard the guard's deep voice direct someone to where his cell was situated right at the end of the hall, Peralta could only roll his eyes.

Surely it was going to be Boyle here to see him. Again. In the four nights between the conclusion of his and Rosa's trial and the day of their sentencing, Charles had visited his partner at least eight times. It was beginning to frustrate Jake to no ends. But, of course, his annoyed exterior was actually nothing more than a poor facade that covered how truly worried he was for his best friend. If Boyle couldn't even last  _half a week_ without seeing Peralta, then how was he possibly going to handle...

Right before the taunting thought could fully creep it's way across his mind, Jake suddenly sensed the nagging activity in his brain come to a complete standstill. The figure that stepped out of the shadows of the dimly lit room made his jaw drop open.

Jake desperately tried to ignore the sensation of his heart skipping an impulsive beat. And as he licked his bottom lip, willing on enough moisture to find his voice, Peralta awkwardly cleared his throat.

"What are you doing here?"

It wasn't exactly the greeting that Amy had been expecting. The detective was thrown back slightly as she stumbled over the start of a response, shrugging her shoulders, "It's not like I've never seen a holding cell before."

Jake's expression remained solemn, "Yeah, you've just never seen one with  _me_ in it before."

The tips of Amy's nails dug into the palms of her hands as she nervously folded her arms over her chest. She had never heard her boyfriend grumble at her so stoically as he just had, but she supposed she wasn't particularly surprised. Amy recalled all too clearly that Jake had asked her not to come and see him while he was stuck in the torturous limbo between freedom and imprisonment. Visiting him in actual  _prison_ was going to be awful enough, he had argued - Jake didn't want to pile any unnecessary trauma on top of what was already a devastating experience for both he and Amy.

But,  _damn it,_ Amy didn't care. She wanted to see Jake. She  _needed_ to see him. She wasn't going to let him roll away in that God forsaken, grimy prison van without getting to say a proper goodbye to him. Not when she wasn't sure when she was going to be able to visit again.

Tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear, Amy offered a scoff tangled together with a soft giggle, "Wow, sounds like you're not even happy to see me."

His silent response instantly made her want to kick herself. Amy swallowed a harsh lump in her throat as she watched her boyfriend slump down on the bench at the back of his cell.

Jake was always the first person to lighten even the most inappropriate moods with a harmless joke.  _Always._  But the metal bars that stood firm between them, preventing her from reaching for his hand to give it a teasing squeeze, quickly indicated that right now was probably the worst time to be cracking any kind of joke.

Amy's eyes fell to the dirty, concrete floor. For the first time in the two years that they had been together, she didn't have the first clue what to say to Jake. She knew what she wanted to  _do._ She knew more than anything that all she wanted was to repetitively fire her gun at Melanie Hawkins' feet and force the slimy Lieutenant to dodge the shower of bullets like she was  _Dancy Reagan._ But Amy also knew that wasn't going to help Jake right now. Jake, or Rosa.

At the abrupt re-emergence of her friend's name in her mind, Amy sensed a shiver race up her spine.

Her throat bobbed in another long swallow as she finally parted her lips again, "What you did for Rosa," she began through a mumble, "Doing what you did to reduce her sentence. That was amaz- "

Amy came to a skidding halt. She drew in a deep breath, trying to stop the tears from welling up in the corners of her eyes.

"Jake,  _you're_ amazing, you - "

"Amy, stop."

The three sharp syllables sliced right through her.

Amy narrowed her vision at Jake. He was still sitting down, frozen in his position at the back of his cell with his eyes absolutely fastened to his feet. His hands were clasped together tightly in his lap and his right leg was jiggling up and down with more nervousness than had ever crossed him.

The speed of Santiago's heart began to pick up. Peralta had barely uttered any more than the two words he had just spoken, and he certainly hadn't dared to properly exchange her glance.

What wasn't Jake saying to her?

"Babe?" she whispered silently between the iron bars, "What's... I mean, a part from the  _obvious_... what's wrong?"

Jake's chest felt like it was on fire. He was bottling up so many overwhelming emotions that the extreme sense of guilt in his sternum was flaring up and burning the rest of his insides, as well. He couldn't bear the thought of sitting there and listening to Amy bestow so much undeserving praise on him for a second longer.

He wasn't amazing. He sure as hell didn't feel amazing. The next sentence threatening to dive off the tip of his tongue happened to taste the complete opposite to what Jake would describe as amazing.

"Amy..." he repeated, his head still facing down, "We... we  _can't_ do this..."

His words washed over her so swiftly that Amy only blinked.

"What do you - " she stuttered, "Jake. We talked about this. Babe, I know you're scared, and I know it's going to be hard, but the squad and I are  _not_ going to quit until you're out of here. It might take days, or weeks even, but it's not going to be  _years_ , Jake, it's - "

"And what if it is?" Peralta snapped in over the top of her, finally flicking his brown orbs up to meet hers, "Hawkins has an air tight case. One that we might not ever be able to poke any holes in.  _Fifteen_ years, Amy, I can't make you wait that long for me."

Jake's voice was ambling on the verge of desperation as he swallowed harshly.

"That's not fair on you."

Amy could barely believe what she was hearing. Forget about the damn case - Jake's words were poking holes in  _Amy_ as she tried to compose herself.

"And what about what's fair to you, hm?" she challenged, "You didn't do anything wrong, Jake, you're innocent, I'm not going to leave you,  _that's_ not fair on you."

"Amy - "

"No, no way, we are not even having this discussion," the detective interjected firmly. As she stood straight and held her shoulders back, Amy decidedly put her foot down, "I don't care if I have to wait fifteen years. If I can't buy a home with you and marry you and have kids with you, then I don't want to do any of that at all."

Jake's heart was coming a part at the seams. Every single future life event that he pictured spending with the woman before him who was listing them so sweetly made another small part of his soul chip away.

He wanted there to be something that Amy could say to him that would make him see the light at the end of the tunnel. Jake  _wished_ that there was. But what his girlfriend didn't know was that he had made his mind up hours ago. The very second that Rosa had declared her inability to make Adrian wait any longer for them to properly be together was the same moment Jake had decided the same for he and Amy.

She deserved more than that. Amy deserved more than Jake.

"Amy, you need to listen to me - "

"Jake, no. I am not writing up an entire alternate version of my life calendar because you want to take the easy way out and press pause on this."

Jake cringed inwardly all over again. Another teasing joke. Another promise of devotion. One joke and one promise too many for him to handle in that moment. He needed a way to make Amy understand the decision he had made. But, of course, the ever-so-stubborn Amy Santiago was never going to let her boyfriend sacrifice any more of himself than he already had that day.

And so, as the all consuming sense of terror he had been feeling all day only continued to seep further and further into his brain, Peralta finally snapped.

"Don't you get it?" he suddenly thundered, launching himself up from his seat, "This isn't me pressing pause on us, Amy, this is me  _dumping_ you."

The viciousness laced between his words slapped Amy hard across the face. The detective almost lost her footing for a precious second, grabbing onto one of the iron bars to hold herself up.

Amy had forgotten to breathe as her lungs abruptly exhaled and she shook her head, "You don't mean that."

Jake took a step towards the front of his cell, his mind a scrambled mess as he sighed, "Look, I was trying to let you down gently, but - "

"No, you're lying," Amy declared with a cynical chuckle of disbelief, "You don't want this. The only thing you're trying to do is  _protect_ me. But I don't want you to protect me, I want  _you,_ Jake."

It dawned on her that he was within her reach again as she stretched an arm through the bars and tried to take his hand in hers. The near contact made Jake's stomach twist up in knots as he ripped away from her.

"What did you think was actually going to happen with us?" he asked with cruel sarcasm, "What? Did you really think we were going to be together forever and live happily ever after? You've known me for almost eight years, Amy, I thought you would've figured out by now that I'm not exactly a  _commitment_ type of guy."

The toxic combination of the expression on Amy's face and the words carelessly falling from his own lips made Jake want to throw up. But still, he pushed on.

"You'd be wasting the next fifteen years of your life whether I'm with you or not. And then some. Go find someone else to be happy with."

Amy was defiantly holding herself together as she sniffled just once and absolutely glowered at Jake.

"You're full of crap," she spat at him, "Last week. We were at home. You took my hand and you looked me dead in the eye and you promised me that everything between us was going to be okay."

" _That_ was the real lie," Jake snapped back without a second thought, "I asked you not to come, and now I'm telling you to leave. Do I need to spell anything else out for you?"

The first real sob finally cracked from the back of her throat as Amy threw her arms out to either side, "Yeah, maybe why the hell you were even with me in the first place?"

Peralta's filter slipped maybe a bit too far as his bottom lip curled up in a snarl, "Well, you put out on the first date, so that was a plus."

The venom from him was poison to her ears as Amy's guts heaved and she took the back of her arm to her face to wipe her eyes. The black mascara stains on her maroon coloured blouse were as dark as the clouds looming over her and Jake as she chewed down hard on her bottom lip and screwed her fist up in a frustrated ball.

"So, that's it? You don't love me anymore?"

The answer appeared in Jake's brain in the most micro fraction of a millisecond. But Amy was  _daring_ him to say anything different. Anything to contradict what she was smart enough to know was just another one of his cowardice facades he was using to cut all ties between them.

Maybe Amy was too scared to put herself first and try to move on and be happy without Jake. But Jake was definitely too scared to swallow his damn pride and just tell Amy the truth.

"No."

Her soul left her body, but somehow, Amy was still standing.

Santiago's eyes were fastened to Peralta's, but his appearance remained firm. A single, silent tear sprung from the corner of Amy's brown iris and rolled down her cheek.

"Well, congratulations," she hummed cynically, "You officially just became the one person whose footsteps you've desperately been trying avoid your entire life,  _Roger."_

The insult was the worst thing she could have fired at him. The final word that rolled so spitefully off the end of her tongue threatened to crumble Jake's confident stance as his knees wobbled and he swallowed back a sob as hard as he could.

But luckily for Jake, Amy had finally heard all she could possibly bear.

"Enjoy rotting, Peralta."

Jake nearly bit his tongue completely off in his attempts not to call after her as she left. As quietly as Amy had appeared in front of his cell, the beautiful, smart, amazing, angelic love of his life slipped away into the shadows and out of sight. And in that moment - Jake wasn't sure if he would ever see her again.

The very second that he heard the heavy, metal door by the courtroom guard slam back into place, Jake twirled around on the spot and instantly sensed the pained tears pour down his face. He balled up his right hand, letting out a single, agonising scream as he thrashed his fist into the solid, concrete wall of his cell. His shouting only intensified as he felt three of four different bones in his knuckles completely shatter. But Jake didn't care. No amount of physical harm he caused to himself could possibly substitute what he was feeling deep inside.

As he took his opposite hand to his right wrist and clutched at it, trying to will away the searing, repetitive throbbing, Peralta spun around again, his back glued to the wall. A tear soaked cry of unimaginable mourning broke loudly through his mouth and his nose as he slid down the cold, gray wall all the way to the floor.

And with his head between his knees, and his legs curled into his chest, and his heart broken into a million pieces on the ground all around him, Jake's body silently wracked with a thousand more inconsolable sobs.

If a string of bank robberies was a fifteen year jail term, then losing Amy was a death sentence.

* * *

 **Friday, Aug 25th, 2017  
** **Day One**

When Gina glanced down at the tiny clock in the corner of her monitor for about the sixth time in two minutes, she let out a mumbled groan under her breath. The fiery red head could swear that time was almost going  _backwards._

"Just two more weeks till maternity leave," she muttered quietly to herself, "Two more weeks, two more weeks..."

Her muted ramblings were suddenly cut off by the sound of her desk phone ringing out loud where it sat by her keyboard. The noise made her jump so high in her seat that she felt her baby roll around in her tummy. As she regained her breath and instantly recognised the extension number on the small screen, Gina peeked over her shoulder to the office situated behind her before picking up the receiver.

"Captain?"

"Gina, a moment of your time?"

Raymond's words were short and sharp and concluded quickly as he cut off the call with his assistant. Gina stared blankly at the phone for a moment before gingerly coming to her feet. Her right hand ran comfortingly over her stomach while she nudged open Captain Holt's door with her opposite arm and stepped into his office.

Holt looked up at her as she did, instantly gesturing for her to shut the door behind her and take a seat. He took another couple of silent seconds, his eyes darting back down to the screen of his laptop to carefully save a couple of documents to his flash drive.

As he pulled the thumb drive from its slot and tucked it safely into the breast pocket of his navy coloured jacket, Raymond looked back to Gina.

"Gina," he started simply, "How are you, how are you feeling? Has your baby's head started to descend to the lower half of your uterus yet?"

Outwardly cringing at her captain's ever-so-awkward attempts at breaking the ice, Gina shook her head, "Hm, yeah, no - we can skip over the check up, Captain, that's fine."

"Very well, then allow me to cut straight to the point," he spoke, shutting the lid of his laptop and leaning back in his chair, "Now, I mean no offence by this, Gina, but would you agree it would be a fair assessment to describe you as somewhat of a gossip mogul?"

"Mhm, absolutely, no offence taken," Gina instantly replied, "I could put TMZ out of business if I really wanted to."

Holt nodded his head along with what his assistant was saying, though, Gina wasn't sure if he entirely understood what she meant. Choosing to push right on without making any more heinous pop-culture references, Captain Holt clasped his hands on top of his desk.

"I'm hoping you can get me up to speed with how the rest of the squad are reacting to Peralta and Diaz being transported to their respective prisons yesterday? How is the team's current state of morale?"

Gina's ginger tinted eyebrows abruptly collapsed into a bewildered frown.

"Morale? Uh, sir,  _no offence,"_ she parroted him carefully, "But the squad is a complete mess! Terry hasn't professed his love for any obscure hobby or inanimate object in over a week. Charles' hair is turning whiter by the day - I mean, my baby is already going to be confused about whether he's an uncle or a cousin, but if his dramatic, stress-induced aging keeps up, they might actually start to think Boyle is their  _grandfather._ And as for Scully and Hitchcock - "

Before her intense ramblings could continue any further, Gina suddenly cut herself off. Her mind turned blank as she slouched back in her chair and shrugged her shoulders, "Actually, Scully and Hitchcock are acting no different, I'm not even sure they've noticed that Rosa and Jake are gone."

Of each analysis she provided, this final statement was definitely the most believable. The mood in the usually vibrant bullpen may have dropped by a thousand decibels since Diaz and Peralta's arrest, but of course, the precinct's two longest serving detectives were none the wiser.

Unlike Hitchcock and Scully, however, Captain Holt always remained on high alert in every situation. And he certainly hadn't failed to notice Gina's seemingly conscious decision to only detail two-thirds of their close knit squad.

"How about yourself?"

The question made Gina's breath hitch in the back of her throat. She hadn't expected Holt to ask her about herself. Gina wasn't sure if she had even properly considered herself.

The guilty verdict placed upon her friends had shaken her just as badly as it had the rest of the Nine-Nine, maybe even more so. She and Rosa had become oddly close throughout their years together on the squad. Well, as close as Rosa would allow anyone to become with her, anyway. But then, of course, there was Jake.

Gina felt her heart thump sadly in her chest. Each of her oldest memories, even from all the way back in elementary school, were tied in some way to Jake Peralta. They had seen each other go through so much throughout their life and their friendship. The thought that sat with Gina of Jake smoothing things over with his dad, and meeting the love of his life, and  _finally_ being happy, only to have it all viciously ripped away from him made her want to go on a flame-thrower induced rampage through Hawkins' office.

It was only when she felt her baby lightly kick her stomach that the red head blinked, snapping out of her dismal thoughts.

Gina took a subtle glance down, placing her hand back on her tummy. As much as it was killing her, she couldn't allow anything with work, or Hawkins, or Diaz, or Peralta to shift her focus from what was now the most important thing in her life. She loved Jake, but Gina loved her baby more.

"I'm okay. I'm just concentrating on the next six weeks and trying not to think about the next fifteen years," she explained, gesturing to the lump under her shirt.

Raymond nodded his head in understanding. He was relieved his assistant had the impending arrival of her new son or daughter to properly distract her from whatever else she may have been feeling - seeing as how she was unable to provide any qualified detective work to Jake and Rosa's case.

But Holt wasn't sure if the same could be said for the final member of his squad.

Nervously licking his bottom lip, Raymond cleared his throat, "And, Santiago?"

Gina fell to an immediate hesitation.

"Uh..."

Before she had the chance to emit any more than her incoherent murmurs, both Gina and her captain suddenly jumped and shifted in their seats at the sound of some abrupt shouting echoing from the bullpen.

It took them a short second to decipher what exactly was going on, but as soon as he recognised Amy's voice bouncing in anger off the four walls of his precinct, Captain Holt sprung to his feet.

It was certainly not uncommon knowledge that Amy Santiago has the tendency to be a  _bit_ of a stress-head. She stressed about her perfect work ethic, she stressed about what other people thought of her - hell, she spent every morning stressing about whether the colour of her socks visibly clashed with the colour of her pantsuit.

But if there was one thing Amy never stressed about, it was an uncooperative perp. Unhelpful criminals were simply a whole new case to crack - people from whom she could take some level of enjoyment out of manipulating and convincing to talk.

Although, Amy wasn't exactly taking much enjoyment out of any part of her life in that moment.

"Maybe spending a night in a cell will make you want to tell me your name, you little punk!"

The strangled groans of pain from the teenager whose arm was currently being wrenched behind his back by a fiercely impatient Detective Santiago made Holt's jaw drop to the floor.

"Ah! My wrist!" he cried out, "You're gonna' break my wrist, you bitch!"

Amy clutched on tighter, dragging the boy towards the precinct's holding cells as she rapidly whipped out her baton, "You want to add a broken knee cap to that list, too?"

"Santiago!" Terry called to her, "What in the hell are you doing? Let him go!"

Spinning around on the spot and tearing the kid along the tiled floor with her, Amy's mouth turned up in a snarl, "I pulled him in off the street this morning for spraying graffiti on the side of the public library, and he  _won't_ tell me his name!"

"He's just a kid, you psycho," Gina spat, bravely taking a step towards her colleague, "I'm pretty sure I'm the only one around here with a legitimate excuse to turn into an unpredictable, hormonal monster."

Amy still appeared furiously tense as Gina approached her. The sight caused eleven or twelve new white hairs to stand up on the back of Charles' neck as he crossed the bullpen right beside his step sister, "Okay,  _okaaay,_ let's all just stay calm and - "

"Oh, relax, Boyle," Gina cut him off, "She knows I could still kick her ass if I wanted to."

There was an all too obvious reluctance in Amy's stance for a moment longer as she resisted Charles' attempts to take her young prisoner off her hands. But with each extra set of concerned eyeballs that landed on her from every corner of the precinct, Santiago eventually felt her grip on the boy's arm loosen.

Her cheeks burned the faintest shade of an embarrassed red as she finally sensed he fingers uncurl from around his bicep and she watched Boyle lead the kid over to his desk instead. Amy sighed to herself, retracting her baton and reaching behind her head to sheepishly scratch the back of her neck. Just as she felt the slightest pinch from her nails against the soft skin at the top of her back, Amy suddenly sucked in a shallow gasp as Gina grabbed a hold of her and began to drag her towards the break room.

"Here. Now," Gina commanded, pushing Amy ahead of her and making sure to close the door behind them.

The brunette remained silent and had her back turned to the red head with her arms crossed over her chest. It was Gina's turn to sigh as she mulled over a different sentence or two in the back of her mind.

"Are you trying to get written up for police brutality and have your butt thrown in jail, too?"

Amy's renewed sense of calmness instantly shattered all around her as she about faced and glared daggers at Gina, "Is this all just one big joke to you?"

"What?" Gina challenged with a snicker, "Two of my best friends being locked up for a crime they didn't commit, trying to keep my weirdo brother from dropping dead of premature aging, stopping my friend's crazy girlfriend from spiralling out of control, all the while being thirty-four weeks pregnant? No, Amy, I can't exactly say I'm having a delighted giggle at any of that."

Santiago fell back to an ashamed speechlessness. First of all, she thought to herself, she wasn't Peralta's  _girlfriend_. Not anymore. Secondly, she wasn't an idiot. Amy knew that she obviously wasn't going to be the only member of her team suffering from the events of the last twenty-four hours. But as her fist continued to scrunch up into a tight ball, Amy knew for a third fact that there was no way in hell anyone else was hurting as much as she was.

"Look, everyone's just super worried about you, okay?" Gina spoke a little more gently, "I mean, his sentencing was only yesterday, no-one was expecting you to even be here today."

The subtle mention of her boyfriend -  _ex-boyfriend,_ made Amy shudder.

"But no-one's blaming you. Jake's an ass," the assistant spat blatantly, "He's an asshole who did an asshole thing in an asshole way. And, ya' know, mad respect for just trying to move on like nothing happened, or whatever. But no-one expects you to do that, either."

The tips of Amy's extremities began to tingle as she felt her insides go numb. Gina was the first person brave enough to speak Jake's name out loud in her presence since he had done what he did.

"Holt said you could take as much time as you needed, so stop trying to prove a point and just go home, Amy."

Santiago's body weight shifted as her shoulders dejectedly slouched back. It was a little confronting to hear someone be so straightforward with her when everyone else she knew had been tip-toeing around her for the past week. There was certainly nothing like a stern reality check to snap her out of her pitiful slump, and there was no-one better than Gina Linetti to serve up a dose of said reality check.

Amy's mind began to cycle again as her emotions continually bounced between sadness and anger. She licked her bottom lip, opening her mouth to speak, but before she could offer Gina a response, the two colleagues suddenly jumped at the sound of the door to the break room swinging open.

"Santiago?"

Captain Holt's tone was as blank and nondescript as ever.

"My office. Now."

Amy would have swallowed nervously if she had the moisture to do so. Or if she cared enough about whatever Holt was going to say to reprimand her. Somehow, her captain's praise and approval wasn't exactly perched where it normally sat at the very top of her priority list.

Her silent walk to Raymond's office was accompanied by a supportive nod from Gina before the two of them left the civilian administrator at her desk. Amy slouched down in one of the two chairs in front of her captain. She couldn't deny the feeling of her heart rate creeping up in even the slimmest amount of nervous anticipation as she watched Captain Holt slowly circle his desk before finally sitting in his own seat.

Raymond paused for a moment, clearing his throat.

"The young man you brought in this morning is speaking with Detective Boyle right now. You'll be lucky if his parents don't decide to press any charges against you."

Amy remained completely unmoved, daring to keep her eyes locked with Holt's as she sat back and looked on at the cogs in his brain turning over. When she didn't even offer him so much as a flinch, Raymond sighed, exasperated.

"Amy, what are you doing here?"

His question threw Amy a little off guard as the confidence in her expression drooped.

"I can't work on their case and get them out of jail if I'm sitting at home feeling sorry for myself."

"Well, while that may be true, you also aren't going to be able to secure Diaz and Peralta's freedom if you continue to push yourself through your instabilities and work as recklessly as you have been this morning."

Amy's jaw stiffened as her teeth clenched, "I had one little slip up with some bratty kid, sir, that's all it was. There is nothing wrong with me," she argued, "Everything is fine, as long as no-one gets in my way, and maybe if I can talk to the judge again and have him reconsider, then everything will be  _fine_ and - "

"No, you're not fine," Holt sharply interjected, shaking his head, "Denial, anger, bargaining, sadness - you're grieving, Santiago, grieving for him because he's disappeared on you again. You shouldn't be going through that in your place of work."

A dull shudder rumbled in the depths of Amy's core. Grieving? Was she really being that pathetic?

"He's not dead, sir."

The icy coldness in her voice told Raymond everything he needed to know. Holt didn't agree with what Jake had done and said to Amy. Not in the slightest. But at the same time, their captain knew that Peralta's outburst was nothing more than a thoughtless, emotional reaction to the pure terror that was totally consuming him. And just as Jake had panicked about prison, Amy was now panicking about being on the outside without him.

But Raymond didn't agree with her thoughtless, emotional outburst, either.

"You're right - he's not. But perhaps your relationship with him will be, for good, unless you pull yourself together," he sniped harshly at her sarcasm, "Santiago, go home. That's an order."

Any resisted a shiver from her tail bone all the way to the base of her neck. Everyone on the squad knew about her and Jake's disgustingly messy break up. The detective wouldn't have been surprised if the gossip had made it all the way down to the beat cops by now.

Each and every time the words he had spoken to her echoed across her mind, or a miserable image of him behind bars flashed through her brain, Amy's stomach heaved.

She honestly wasn't sure if there was a single factor of their relationship worth reviving anymore.

Without muttering another word to her captain, and before her guts could twist and turn too much with any more thoughts of Peralta, Amy silently stood from her seat and marched towards the door of Holt's office. She didn't even stop to say anything to Gina or her other colleagues once she made it back out into the bullpen. She left her computer on, disregarded the half eaten toasted sandwich on her desk, snatched up her purse and cell phone, and made a beeline for the elevator.

As the automatic doors slowly began to shut in front of her, and the varying expressions of confusion and pity and sadness in each of her friends' eyes pierced right through her, Amy drew in a long, deep breath.

Shoulders back. Chin up. Don't cry.

* * *

Their apartment felt totally empty.

No amount of bright New York sunshine glistening through the open window could replace the light that had burned out when he left. No volume of Polish hot chocolate (or harsh whiskey, for that matter) could substitute the warmth she had come accustomed to just by his presence. No matter how many times she left  _Die Hard_  to play over and over again in the Blu-ray player, the sound of it couldn't fill her ears with the joy that the simplest, tiniest laugh from him could.

Only, this wasn't their apartment anymore. It was just hers. It was just Amy.

The air tasted slightly stale from the half a packet of cigarettes she had smoked her way through the night before. She gently closed the front door behind her, trying to resist the sensation of regret that washed over her from flushing the rest of them down the toilet before she could poison her lungs any further.

Then again, she had all but truly convinced herself that her work as a detective would be the catalyst to distract her from this or any other reckless behaviours. But now she had been sent home. She had been near enough physically thrown from the precinct, with nothing to return home to but zero distractions and a lonely apartment.

Wordlessly - well, not that she had anyone to talk to - Amy kicked off her shoes and slung her purse off her shoulder and onto the wooden floor. She clasped her hands behind the back of her neck, rotating the spinal structure in a circle to try and loosen her tense muscles. Huffing out a frustrated breath, she was beginning to wish she had snuck home some files so she could at least continue to look over their case in an attempt to stop herself from going stir-crazy.

Chewing down on her bottom lip in a moment of hesitation, Amy sighed again. Maybe she still had some cigarettes stuffed in the back of her wardrobe. Not that she needed them. Amy was fine. She was strong. She just wanted to check. You know - for future reference.

The detective tried to concentrate on every step she took towards her bedroom, every creak of every floorboard, every halfhearted beat echoing in her chest -  _anything_ to stop her from focusing on the dark, dismal thoughts that dwelled in the back of her mind. Amy swallowed hard as she took a timid peak around the corner of the bedroom door. The duvet was smooth and flat, the sheets were tightly tucked under the mattress, and the mountain of pillows was perfectly fluffed up.

She had slept on the couch last night. For obvious reasons. Not that she had really slept, anyway...

Quickly shaking her head to drag herself away from the unwanted memories, Amy shut her eyes for two seconds to brace herself, and then marched towards her wardrobe where it sat opposite her bed. The stride in her footsteps felt unwavered as a small, smug grin tugged at the very edge of Amy's lips.

She knew could do this. Santiago  _knew_ that Holt had over reacted when he banished her from the precinct and sent her packing for the day.

Amy was fine. There was nothing wrong with her.

She was fine.

She was totally fine.

Or, she  _was_ totally fine until she spied the corner of her life calendar poking out from behind her wooden closest.

Amy's breath immediately hitched in the back of her throat. She had completely forgotten that it had been moved from its usual place on the wall. The abrupt memory had her frozen in her place as she only stared at the thick, white piece of card that hauntingly glared back at her.

With all her previous thoughts of work, and Holt, and  _stupid_ damn cigarettes cleared from her mind, Amy reached a shaky hand forward and pulled out the calendar from the shadows. As she held onto it tightly, feeling her nails tear away slightly at the soft papers stapled to it, she went completely numb, her blood running cold from her broken heart.

Amy wasn't fine.

A gut-wrenching scream was all that teared through the four walls of her bedroom as Amy viciously ripped the over sized calendar right down the middle. Hurling the two separate pieces over her shoulders at opposite corners of the room, Santiago brought her hands to her face, dropping with a thud down to her knees.

Who did he think he was? Who  _the hell_ did Jake Peralta think he was? Amy shuddered as his full name flashed across her brain for the first time in twenty-four long hours. It didn't feel the same - any thought of him didn't evoke the same emotions that they had over the last two years. Her skin didn't tingle when she pictured the brave, kind, funny soul who had swept her off her feet. Her stomach only turned when she remembered the cruel, cowardly, sick jerk who had stomped on her heart in the dim lighting of a holding cell.

The shakiness from her hands began to travel across the rest of her body. Amy bit down hard on her bottom lip, choking back on a sob. How did she get here? How did she ever let herself fall for someone like Jake so goddamn hard? What was it that had finally tipped her over the edge and into his arms?

If only she hadn't waited for him when he was shipped off to witness protection in Florida. If only she hadn't ever asked him to move in with her, or they never bought that stupid new mattress, or she didn't break her own rule about sleeping with him on the first date, or didn't kiss him so many fake times while they were undercover, or didn't kiss him  _for real_  the very next day, or never made that  _goddamn_  felony bet with him in the first place...

If only Amy didn't love Jake more than she ever loved anyone before.

But even if all that weren't true, and all that had never happened, Amy knew it was absolutely hopeless. She knew she'd  _still_ love Jake. More than anything.

The realisation hit her like a tonne of bricks and kept her weighed down and glued to the floor of her bedroom. Her throat began to feel like it was completely closing up as she shuffled across the carpeted floor to lean her back into the end of her bed as she brought her knees to her chest.

Jake had left her. This time, he had  _really_ left her. And he wasn't coming back.

And then, doing the only possible thing she could will her mind and her body to do in that moment - Amy curled up on the cold floor of her empty bedroom, and she finally cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and lyrics by P!nk.
> 
> Okay, so first of all, I'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRY! I did warn you this wasn't going to be a sweet and happy time..
> 
> Please don't give up on Jake and Amy and think that all hope is lost... even though it feels like it is. Just know he only did it because he loves her!
> 
> It feels amazing to finally be back with a new chapter for this story! Feel free to leave me a comment/kudos to give me your feedback! I truly appreciate it! Be sure to stay tuned... the next chapter is where things may start to get even more interesting... ;)
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed as much as you could, considering the awful circumstances.. Hopefully I won't be gone as long between now and the next chapter.
> 
> Until next time! x


	3. Get Up

_Hard to move mountains_ _when you're paralysed,  
_ _But you gotta' try._

* * *

  ** _Tuesday, Jan 14th, 2014_**

 _Amy tightened her denim jacket_ _around her shoulders, shivering from the chilly breeze that whipped through the empty Brooklyn streets. She tucked away a stray, brown hair that had fallen from her ponytail before shutting the back door to the first squad car, securing her two perps in place with their seat belts fastened and their hands cuffed behind their backs._

_As the detective adjusted her badge that was hidden on her belt loop under her shirt, Amy looked to her colleagues from the Nine-Nine._

_"Thanks for getting down here so quickly," she offered the two uniformed officers with an appreciative grin._

_"Of course - and hey, nice collar by the way," the taller of the two replied, "Do you need a ride back to the precinct, Detective?"_

_The suggestion was a very welcomed one as Amy's features lit up and she almost answered with an immediate nod of her head. That was, of course, until she heard an annoyingly familiar voice calling her name from the top of the alleyway behind her._

_"Santiago!"_

_Grumbling quietly under her breath, Amy took a quick peek over her shoulder. She resisted the cringe that dared to creep its way across her face before she glanced back at the two beat cops._

_"Thanks for the offer," she began, subtly rolling her eyes, "But I'm actually in the middle of... a date..."_

_The last word that left her lips still stung with the poisonous taste of defeat as Amy sighed._ _She shared a last couple of words with her extended team mates before they took off in their separate cars back towards the Ninety-Ninth precinct._

_And then, as she braced herself for whatever sarcasm he was sure to spew next, Amy looked over to Jake._

_"Nice of you to re-join me," she prodded at her partner, "Where did you disappear to?"_

_"Hey, now, no need to make it sound like I completely ditched you. I waited until Blake and Murphy got here first, and besides,_ _I was only gone for literally two minutes," he argued, suddenly digging around in the bottom of his pocket for something, "I wanted to go back for this!"_

_For the first silent second, Amy wasn't sure how to respond to the cheap, plastic ring and very obscene, very fake diamond staring back at her. Her mouth fell a part just slightly, and her head tilted to one side in confusion._

_"It bounced down the gutter when I threw it away," Jake began to explain, "It was teetering on the edge of the drain at the end of the block, but I managed to grab it before it fell in. I mean, I jabbed my finger on the metal grating that was sticking out, so I will probably definitely need a tetanus shot later, but still!"_

_Trying not to encourage him with any kind of amused smirk or chuckle, Amy could only shake her head, "Wouldn't it have been easier to just go back to the same dollar store and buy me a new one?"_

_Jake was still for a moment, eventually shrugging his shoulders, "Well, yeah, I guess. But I bought you **this** one."_

_Instantly, Amy froze. For a terrifying moment or two, the detective didn't know what to say. Had the ever-cynically crude Jake Peralta actually just said something to her that was... kind of sweet?_

_"This is the one ring that symbolises every hideously embarrassing thing you've experienced with me tonight!"_

_Amy blew out a breath that was followed by a gentle laugh. Phew. False alarm._

_Finally reaching forward to take the round piece of plastic from him and slip it back onto her wedding finger, Amy snorted at a new thought that crossed her mind, "I guess I may as well take it. God only knows if I'll ever get a real one of these."_

_"Well, yeah, not with that attitude," Jake scoffed without missing a single beat. But when Amy didn't return the same joking expression,_ _and a dim sadness shadowed her brown eyes instead, the male detective felt a pang of guilt bubble deep in his conscience._

 _Sighing with just the slightest sense of disappointment in himself, Jake cleared his throat,_ _"Seriously, though, you shouldn't worry about that stuff. I think you're gonna' make someone super happy one day."_

_As the faint twinge of hurt fell from her face, Amy's features widened in surprise. There was no mistaking the kind sentiment that had just left her partner's mouth for anything but exactly what it was._

_The warning bells were ringing in her ears all over again as she hastily twirled around on the spot, tripping over her own footing as she began to stroll back towards Peralta's car. Deep down, though - as awkward as the sudden compliment may have felt, Amy couldn't deny the smallest, smiley blush that impulsively glowed in her cheeks._

_"Thanks, Jake."_

_"Yep. Somewhere out there is a nerdy, obsessive-compulsive little suck-up waiting to be bossed around by you for the rest of his life."_

_The shy hue of pink immediately drained from Amy's face. As tempted as she may have been to swing her foot out and sweep Jake's legs out from under him as he walked, the detective knew she really had no right to be shocked._

_Jake Peralta complimenting her on something other than her work? Sure - when hell freezes over._

_But still, the smile remained on her face. In fact, it only continued to grow as she laughed at him and rolled her eyes again._

_" **Thanks,** Jake."_

_Trying her best to ignore the smug chuckles rumbling from his stomach, Amy took a quick glance down to adjust the ring on her finger. When she caught the image of her watch face sitting on her left wrist, the detective groaned again. Almost midnight._

_Amy cringed, speaking through gritted teeth, "So, as much as I hate to remind you - shouldn't we be heading into Times Square for whatever grossly humiliating event you've planned so this nightmare can finally end?"_

_Jake faltered slightly as he glanced up to peer at Amy where she was still walking just ahead of him. He could tell that her annoyed tone was all in good fun, despite every ridiculous detail of their so-called date thus far. Between the strictly allocated bathroom breaks and the straight up ugly, blue prom dress he had made her wear, Santiago really had been such a gracious loser all night long._

_But the detective could also see the weighted reluctance in each of his partner's steps and the way her shoulders were slouched back in exhausted defeat. And for one teeny, tiny, minuscule moment - Jake hated to think that **he** was the reason for all of Amy's misery._

_"Uh, actually, Gina texted me before. Her and Boyle and Diaz are still at Shaw's if you just wanna' head back there and get one last drink instead?" he asked gently, "On me?"_

_The tiniest crease fell between Amy's eyebrows as she frowned at him. She waited for him to snicker at her or nudge her with a joking elbow or spring some kind of punchline on her, but instead, as she continued to gaze curiously up at her partner, all she could see in Jake's expression was a soft, genuine smile._

_"Oh," she answered simply, "Uh, sure. Yeah, sure, that sounds cool."_

_"Cool," Jake repeated blankly, "Cool, cool, cool..."_

_His muted ramblings, while very typical, were almost enough to force another awkward wedge between them. Suddenly clearing his throat and reaching for the passenger door of his beat up old car, Jake opened it for Amy, gesturing to the seat._

_"M'lady."_

_The charming tone accompanying the three, simple syllables made Amy halt on the spot for a moment - a long moment in which she eventually found herself having to forcefully tear her gaze away from his._

_The pearly whites of her teeth shone through her polite smile as Santiago chose to merely nod her head once and then climb into the car. Her heart timidly thumped in her chest in time with Peralta gently shutting the door - her eyes falling back to the ring on her left hand._

_And as Jake slowly paced around the front of the car, past the hood and over to the driver's side, he took a deep breath, making a quiet promise to himself._

_He was **not** becoming completely obsessed with her._

* * *

**Monday, Aug 28th, 2017  
** **Day Four**

Santiago was really starting to wish the rest of the squad would stop staring at her.

Each time she reached across her desk for her stapler, or searched through her filing cabinet for a particular binder, or stood from her chair to retrieve a document from the printer, she could sense a different set of eyes absolutely piercing her. She felt like she was an animal in a zoo.

And, honestly - all this because she had come back to work so soon after her ordeal with Gina, Holt, and a certain teenage vandal only three days ago? As if any of her colleagues were in the position to be so judgemental of her.

As she checked and double checked the stack of paper she was feeding through the fax machine, Amy sensed a figure frozen in its place out of the corner of her eye. She shot her vision back down, grumbling to herself as she plucked her papers back from the tray of the printer. And as she took a first step over towards her desk - sure enough, Boyle was standing right there. Standing, and staring at her.

"Something I can help you with, Charles?" she muttered through gritted teeth, nudging her team mate with a not-no-subtle elbow as she brushed by him.

Nervously clearing his throat, Charles walked on tentative toes and stayed a step behind Amy as he followed her. A small frown collapsed into his brow when he spotted the open case file sitting on her desk.

"Oh," he exclaimed, picking up the manila folder and flicking through the first couple of pages, "You're still working on the Carlisle murder?"

"Well, the victim didn't miraculously come back to life, so the case is still unsolved so, yes," she hissed, snatching the file back from Boyle, "I'm still working on the Carlisle murder."

The surprise that swept across his face from her aggressive tone was obvious to everyone in the precinct, but still, Santiago remained unfazed. She bit down on her tongue, trying to prevent any further verbal attacks on him as Boyle daringly carried right along.

"Well... I just thought - I mean, I was only gonna' say, if you want a change of pace, I could give you the latest update on where the squad's at with our case against Hawkins..."

Charles swallowed a concerned lump he could taste in the back of his throat as he spied the speed at which Amy's knuckles scrunched up into a fist and turned twenty shades whiter than all the hair on his head. But given she hadn't snapped at him again, Boyle pushed past the nervous chunk that had dropped from his neck to his stomach and hurried through the rest of his thought.

"Because, ya' know, Sarge has been tracking her every move, and Hitchcock and Scully have been spending most days up at Flaxton Hills Farm, and - "

"And, what, Boyle?" Santiago spat with huffing sarcasm and renewed frustration, "You're all just feeling  _so_ optimistic, despite how little progress you've made, and you're certain that one extra set of eyes will surely foil her perfect plot?"

Charles found himself flinching slightly as Amy threw her case file to her desk and collapsed down in her seat with a thud. The squeaking of the wheels on her chair echoed through the now eerily quiet precinct as a poisonous amount of venom settled on the end of her tongue.

"The rest of the crime in this freakin' city doesn't stop just because Jake Peralta's not here to solve it..."

The familiar sense of numbness sank further down into Amy's core at the sound of her own words. That was the first and only time she had spoken his name since she last saw him. And yet, Amy felt no emotion. Not a single one.

Despite the hysterics that she had unleashed upon returning back to her apartment on Friday night, the rest of Amy's weekend had not been spent in the same self-pitying manner. The shredded remnants of her life calendar were sitting somewhere at the very bottom of Brooklyn Central garbage dump. Her heart, heavy with immense sadness, had now been hollowed out and replaced with nothing but pure anger.

Amy was done with wallowing. She wasn't miserable, she wasn't filled with regret, and she wasn't longing for him anymore. Now, Amy was just plain pissed off.

She had cried all the tears she had left for Jake Peralta.

"Wow, there's no children here today for you to hurl your abuse at, so now you're targeting your co-workers?"

Gina's sarcasm was unmistakable as her words sliced right through Amy's thoughts.

As she slowly swivelled around in her desk chair, Amy narrowed her fiery, brown eyes at the red-head sitting behind her. She sure as hell had been quick to retract any previous sympathy offered the other day. But Santiago wasn't surprised. After all, when it came to her and Jake, it wasn't  _Amy_ that Gina was ever immediate to side with, was it?

Curling her bottom lip down into a frown, Amy sensed a threateningly snarky insult cross her mind. Luckily for the detective, though, she was interrupted before she could deliver it.

"Santiago?"

Captain Holt's authoritative voice instantly shrunk any sense of courage Amy was feeling well and truly back down to size.

"A moment of your time?"

Despite the tone of his supposed question, Santiago could tell that Holt wasn't asking her, but rather,  _ordering_ her to relocate from her desk to his office. Although, as she could practically feel the feistiness of Gina's challenging glare that was locked onto her, Amy quickly figured that maybe any incoming battle with her captain would certainly be an easier war to wage.

Sliding over the threshold from the bullpen to the confined space of Holt's office felt like she was sliding out from under the microscope that Charles and all her other colleagues were keeping her under. The door clicked into place behind her as Amy managed to release a long sigh from her lungs and take her place in one of the two chairs in front of her captain's desk.

But of course, the moment of relief didn't last.

It wasn't long until Amy noticed that Raymond was still yet to actually say anything to her. She followed him carefully with her eyes, her curiosity peaking more and more as he pulled the blinds over his office window, slowly circled his desk, and sat in his seat. The lid of his laptop opened gingerly as the older officer ran his fingers over a couple of keys. And then, Raymond reached into the breast compartment of his jacket.

The crease in Amy's brow deepened as her eyes zeroed in on a small, slim thumb drive her captain retrieved from his pocket and plugged into the USB port of his laptop.

The detective thought about speaking - her tongue brushing her lips and the slight sound of the start of a sentence even leaving her mouth. But any deliberation within herself was quickly cut short as Captain Holt suddenly turned his laptop around one hundred and eighty degrees to face her.

His peculiar silence prolonged as he watched Amy's eyes scan over the words and numbers typed on the document before her. She read the first couple of sentences quietly in her head, but soon enough, Amy felt her voice begin to echo from the back of her throat.

"Seven priceless sculptures from the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, an estimated two hundred thousand dollars worth of diamonds from Anderson Jewellers in East Hartford, four paintings from the Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh..."

Amy could sense the cogs in her brain slowly beginning to spin. She stared up at her captain in utter confusion, unable to connect the dots before her, "What  _is_ all this?"

Calmly folding his hands over on the desk, Holt let the question hang in the tense air of his office for a second or two before clearing his throat.

"This particular list of data details a number of high-profile heists in our surrounding states that were allegedly carried out by multiple crooked teams on the force," he explained, pausing, "...Crooked teams led by Lieutenant Melanie Hawkins."

Amy's stomach heaved at the sound of Hawkins' name.

"But - " Amy stuttered, still uncertain of what any of this meant, "But, that's impossible. That can't be right, I mean, Hawkins works for the NYPD, she can't also be heading teams in Connecticut and Pennsylvania and - "

"Well, no, not  _officially_ ," Holt cut back in, "But let's say, hypothetically, Hawkins had managed to track down the right candidates and shared with them her technique and her success in the Golden Gang robberies. It could be argued that even the straightest of detectives would be tempted to pledge their allegiance to her and her plans."

Santiago was sure her face was starting to drain of all colour by now. A thousand different questions began swirling through her mind. Was any of what Raymond was telling her even the least bit true? How the hell had Melanie been able to get away with so much for so long?

Her next question, Amy spoke aloud.

"How did you even get access to this info?"

"Samuel Miller - Diaz and Peralta's attorney," he answered, holding down a slight snicker at the shock in Santiago's face, "Off the record, of course."

Amy nodded her head up and down just once, still not in complete understanding. She squirmed sort of uncomfortably in her chair as Raymond gathered his thoughts a little further.

"Unfortunately he's not the only member of his institute who has tried and failed to put Hawkins away in the past. Each of the robberies listed in this data set could not be successfully linked back to either her or her team and have, therefore, been stricken from the record," he went on, taking another breath, "Though, of course, that doesn't mean that  _we_ can't use it as a fresh lead to find any new evidence."

The overload of information was beginning to suffocate Amy in her chest as she wearily tried to read further down the screen of her captain's laptop, "Well... well, I mean, it could be a start? Maybe. Like, maybe you have enough here to re-launch an investigation, but where's the value in looking at other cases from out of state when - "

Before her hurried ramblings could reach a volume audible beyond the glass window of his office, Holt held up a silencing finger to cut his detective off. He was frozen in that position for what felt like a lifetime, until Raymond retracted his hand and reached for the very bottom drawer of his desk, slowly pulling it open.

When he slid a manila folder across the tabletop to her, Amy sensed a nervous shiver race up her spine.

She almost didn't want to look at it. But then again, she almost didn't want to look back to her captain, either. And knowing any attempts at rolling her eyes into the back of her head and simply disappearing were impossible, Amy soon decided to reach one, shaky hand out towards the cream coloured cardboard.

Its contents were flimsy at best - Amy could tell as she lifted the near-empty folder from the table. When she turned the cover over and flipped through four individual mugshots, the detective felt the frown deepen in her face.

Finally flicking her eyes back up to meet Holt's, she followed his gesture as he hinted for her to lie the four photos out across his desk. Raymond pointed his index finger to the first one.

"Detective Luke Bryant," he spoke, making his way along the line of pictures, "Detective Andrew Webster, Detective Phillip Collins, and Sergeant Melissa Ambrose."

Amy matched each name to each devastated expression on the faces in the mugshots, starting to feel her heart race a little. And then, Raymond caught her direct eye contact again.

"All of them tried to stop Hawkins. All of them were framed by her."

The revelation was like a punch to Amy's gut as she felt all her breath leave her at once. Holt offered her no reprieve as he carried straight on.

"All of them were wrongfully sent to prison. All of them have been taken away from their parents, their siblings, their friends, their spouse," he stopped again, punctuating his next phrase with a knowing tone, "Their boyfriend or girlfriend."

The guilt crashed down onto Santiago's shoulders like a tonne of bricks. No matter how much she had managed to convince herself that there wasn't a single person on the planet whom could understand what she was going through, it was a whole other level of awful to now be hearing that there were, in fact,  _multiple_ people experiencing her exact same hell.

"These officers weren't the last," Raymond snapped back in over the top of her dismal daydream, "And unless we do something to put a stop to Hawkins, Jake and Rosa won't be the last, either."

Amy's heart skipped a beat. Jake. Jake who must have been terrified and heartbroken. Jake who, at the same time, had ruined Amy's life and crushed her soul.

Quickly stopping the back and forth debate in her mind before she could spiral into a new fury, Santiago swallowed a lump in her throat.

"Do you have a plan?"

Holt's expression remained firm as he nodded his head, glancing back to the screen of his computer, "I do. Mr. Miller has a colleague in an out of state precinct close to where a team of these dirty cops are operating. There's been suspicious eyes on them from surrounding cities, and building speculation that they may strike again soon."

Amy was almost scared to ask, "Whereabouts are we talking?"

"Michigan. I want to send a detective in, undercover, to Detroit to work alongside the team of officers and uncover their plot," he answered her, "We can't risk getting so physically close to Hawkins again now that she's familiar with our squad. The further away from Brooklyn our operation takes place, the better."

There was a single moment of further silence. And then, Raymond's next words made Amy's chest drop to the pit of her stomach.

"I want to send  _you_ undercover to Detroit, Santiago."

The panic that settled within her was immediate. Panic, along with a million other heart-stopping emotions of disbelief.

No, her first thought was. No, no, no - there was no way on  _Earth_ Amy could possibly go through with what her captain was asking her.

Hadn't Holt been paying attention to the cases Santiago had been adamant about working since that accursed Thursday last week? She hadn't even  _touched_  Diaz and Peralta's file because... well, because it was Jake.

And because Amy wasn't miserable, she wasn't filled with regret, and she wasn't longing for him.

"Sir, I - "

"You don't have to give me an answer right now," he interrupted, blatantly ignoring the wary tone in her voice, "This is not a decision that I want you to take lightly. Our end game with this operation, aside from bringing Hawkins to justice, is to get Peralta and Diaz out of prison. Even if it takes fifteen years."

The detective felt her jaw fall open and plummet to the floor.

" _Fifteen -_ " she spluttered, "Captain Holt, I  _cannot_ possibly - "

"I'm sorry, am I hearing you  _doubt_ yourself, Detective?"

Amy narrowed her brown eyes as she gazed through straight daggers at her captain. Did he honestly believe he could manipulate her that easily? Perhaps in any other normal circumstance, yes. But these circumstances were far from normal.

"Yeah," she spat plainly, "Yeah, I am."

Holt raised a challenging eyebrow, "Surely you don't need me to reaffirm that you are my best detective."

"Who is  _far_ too close to this case."

"But who is also someone that I wholeheartedly trust is capable of putting her personal feelings aside for the sake of her precinct and her colleagues," Holt snapped back, not missing a beat, "And I also know that no matter the deep sadness you're feeling or whatever angry facade you're trying to project - I  _know_ that you care, Amy. You care about this case, you care about Diaz, and you  _care_ about Peralta. So much so that you can and will use that to push yourself until you've brought Hawkins down - for good."

Amy was speechless. Her head was spinning. It was like she was filled with a thousand and one loud thoughts, but no matter what she tried, no words could leave her mouth. What the hell was she even supposed to say?

"Now, Santiago, do  _you_ trust  _me_?"

That was an easy one.

"Yes," she managed to murmur, clearing her throat as she tried again, "How much of this plan is- is even, like, set in stone?"

"The most difficult part is going to be securing legitimacy of your departure from the Nine-Nine. To ensure that no-one asks any questions," he explained, "From there, you'll be granted some time to spend with your family before leaving for Michigan, however, you won't be able to reveal to them the details of your assignment. Just enough to let them know it could be some time before you see them again."

A shudder crossed her as Amy nodded her head, remaining wordless.

"We're still not completely aware of the exact gravity of the situation in Detroit, but given the potential longevity of this case and the risks associated with cops getting too close to Hawkins and her crew, I'll be remaining in sporadic contact with you throughout."

The detective's heart rate slowed a little at this detail. But still, it only silenced one of the million other alarm bells ringing between her ears at everything else she was hearing.

Amy nervously licked her bottom lip, "How much time can I have?"

For the first instance in their whirlwind, five minute conversation, Captain Holt's expression softened, "I can give you a week. Though, the sooner we're able to execute our commencement of this operation, the better," he added, leaning towards her slightly, "Take the rest of the day off. You should go home and process everything we've discussed this morning."

Amy sighed, exasperated, "Sir - "

"It's not an order. Stay if that's what you really want," he spoke before she could argue with him, "This is just me advising you that perhaps you'll find you're able to make a much more informed decision with a clear head."

Amy's manicured nails drummed against the wooden arm of her chair as she hesitated. She dreaded to think of whatever toxic conclusions the rest of the Nine-Nine would jump to if she were to suddenly leave the precinct for the second workday in a row.

But hell, did the shredded pieces of what remained of her pride and dignity really even matter anymore?

"Okay..." she replied tentatively, "Okay, I'll leave the Carlisle case with Sarge and then go home and think about everything, and I guess... I guess, I'll just let you know," she murmured halfheartedly, "Thank you, sir."

She was sort of surprised when her legs didn't turn to jelly and collapse out from under her as she stood up. It took a second or two for her brain to send the right message to her feet, but soon enough, Amy was able to take a first step back towards the bullpen.

Holt watched her as she left, quietly replaying snippets of their conversation to himself in the back of his mind. And then, as he focused on the reference to Sergeant Jeffords she had just made, Raymond's eyes widened in realisation.

"Santiago, there is one more thing," he began, tapping his pencil against the desk once or twice as she slowly turned back around. The captain sighed, "I'm sure you're aware that early next year is when you'll receive the results of your sergeants' exam."

The last two words that left him made Amy's heart skip a shallow beat as Raymond went on.

"I'm also rather certain that a failing grade isn't anything you need be concerned with," he trailed off, pausing for a moment, "But in saying that... a passing mark requires you to attend a promotional ceremony with the commissioner before commencing in your new role. And, well... no promotional ceremony means - "

"No promotion."

All her hopes and dreams may have well as gone up in a puff of smoke with the sentence she spoke. Part of her didn't want to believe it, but as her expression locked on to the solemn stare in her captain's eyes, that was all Amy needed to confirm what she already knew to be true.

Her long, hard, gruelling seven years as a detective flashed across her mind in what felt like a wasted millisecond as Amy reached for the handle of the office door.

"Understood, sir."

As these last two words left her ever so quietly, all of Amy's muddled and messed up thoughts slowly began to come together piece by tiny piece in her over-worked brain.

She had to admit, for the first time in the last week or so, Amy was actually relieved to be going home from work early that day. As much as she despised the thought of being trapped between the four walls of her apartment all on her own, she knew it was what she needed to do.

The detective had one hell of a long night ahead of her.

* * *

 **Tuesday, Aug 29th, 2017  
** **Day Five**

Anyone who truly knew her would agree that living with such an immature man-child for close to a year had made Amy slightly more accustomed to her space not being so obsessively tidy all the time.

But at the end of the day, germs were still germs. And Amy still visibly cringed when she woke up that morning to a sticky line of drool dangling from her mouth.

Groaning out loud to herself, Amy quickly sat up, suddenly very awake as she wiped her lips with her hand and rubbed the back of her neck.

She had woken up cold, having forgotten to set the morning timer on her apartment's heating system. She had also woken up hungry after another night of being physically unable to eat anything for dinner. And finally, she had woken up with a sharp pain in her lower back.

But Amy would spend a million awful nights on her uncomfortably firm couch if it meant getting to avoid her double bed for as long as possible.

The detective huffed out a sigh, rubbing her weary eyes and frowning at yesterday's mascara that instantly stained her skin. Her stomach grumbled under her tank top, guilting her and coercing her to consider actually eating something other than the packeted mints in the bottom of her purse that morning.

The wooden slats of the floor were chilly on her bare feet as Amy reluctantly rolled off the couch and took the short stroll from the living room to her kitchen. She popped a single piece of bread in the toaster before a second, mute sigh escaped her and she slowly spun around to make her way towards the bathroom.

She hadn't decided whether she was going to work or not that day. She hadn't thought about it. She hadn't really thought about  _anything_.

The absolute slimmest sense of disappointment in herself shot across her chest. She hated to think that she was wasting Captain Holt's time by not even attempting to consider what he had asked of her yesterday. But thinking about her proposed assignment meant thinking about Jake.

And no matter how hard she tried, Amy simply  _couldn't_ bring herself to think about Jake.

Avoiding the image of her bed and most other things in her room as she scurried through to the en suite, Amy narrowed her eyes at her reflection in the mirror. Her brown orbs rolled in irritation and her hand crept up to her neckline at what she saw. The detective had fallen asleep the night before wearing one of her older, cheaper necklaces - evident by the green tinge of a copper stain in a faint line around her neck.

She mumbled a silent swear under her breath as she walked back into her room, flicking her vision over to the digital clock on her nightstand. Still only a little after six, she thought to herself. She had a good hour or two yet until she had to decide whether or not to grace her precinct and the rest of the world with her presence that day.

Focusing back on the copper chair around her neck, Amy took a moment to eye to tall chest of drawers sitting by the wall closest to the bathroom. She tried as desperately as she could to ignore the fact that the majority of the clothing neatly folded away in it belonged to  _you-know-who,_ and instead reached for her jewellery box that sat on top of the wooden set. She dragged the gray, velvet box towards the edge, opening the lid before taking her hands to the clasp of her necklace.

It might have been from the lack of nutrition, or the lack of consistent shut-eye, or the lack of pretty much anything else, really - but Amy soon found herself cursing out loud when something about her food and sleep deprived sense of coordination caused her elbow to knock the box clean from its place. Her carpeted floor was an instant mess of spilled earrings and rings and bracelets and whatever other pieces of dangling jewellery.

Hanging her head back with a loud groan, Santiago scraped her fingers through her hair in frustration. All she wanted was  _one_ day where the tiny, inevitable annoyances of life didn't add to the mountain of stress she was already feeling. All she wanted was to be comfortable enough to be alone in her apartment and sleep in her own  _goddamn_ bed again.

All Amy wanted was feel like she was in control. In control of at least...  _something._

For now, all she had to be in control of was clean up duty as she knelt down to the ground and turned her jewellery box upright. She dumped everything back inside, not particularly caring if all her necklaces tangled together. She leaned forward, reaching for a single earring and a couple of other smaller pieces that had rolled under the chest of drawers.

And then, Amy froze.

Time came to complete standstill as her jaw parted slightly and her heart skipped a dozen uncertain beats. Her eyes were suddenly as dull as the fake diamond that stared back at her. The cheap plastic she dared to take in her shaking hand felt even harder than the defensive wall she had built around herself over the last five days.

As she fell back to sit properly on the floor and leaned against the end of her bed, Amy danced the one dollar ring between her fingers. She didn't want to think about her ex. She didn't want to think about all the things he had done and said to hurt her. But as she continued to gaze down at the piece of plastic that had been hidden in the bottom of her jewellery box for all this time, the memories of Jake that filled Amy's mind were totally beyond her power.

She remembered him dropping to one knee in the middle of the bullpen on the final day of their bet and holding the ring case out to her. She remembered the obnoxious pieces of coloured confetti that had been caught in her hair, and the smug smile that sat on Jake's face when she grumbled her reluctant agreement to go on 'the worst date ever' with him. She remembered all the hell he put her through, and how he had loved every damn minute of it.

She remembered the final rule he had made for the night. That no matter what happened, she wasn't allowed to fall in love with him.

Only somewhere between the two of them throwing peanuts into each other's mouths on their rooftop stakeout, and him crumbling before her and kissing her for the first real time in the evidence lock-up all those months later - Amy had done exactly that.

A silent tear pooled in her eye and rolled down her cheek. And then it hit her. It hit her  _hard_. The realisation smacked her unapologetically across the face and knocked out every single sense of stubborn denial she had been forcing herself to feel.

Amy was miserable, she was filled with so much regret, and  _by God_ was she longing for him.

Quickly wiping away the single tear with the back of her hand, Amy sprung from the floor to her feet. She tore from her closet the first pantsuit she could find and stuffed the ring deep into the beige coloured pocket as she got changed. Without even bothering to brush her teeth, or clean the rest of the mess on her bedroom floor, or eat the wholemeal toast that had popped up from the toaster, Detective Santiago snatched up her car keys and bolted through the front door of her apartment.

This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

* * *

 The elevator dinged at seven a.m. on the dot as the doors parted and Captain Holt stepped out into the bullpen. The scene before him was quiet and empty - the last of the night shift workers having left just as he arrived.

He nudged his way through the small wooden gate, crossed the tiled floor towards his office, and unlocked the door with the key that hung on his belt.

It was a cold New York morning - one that lead him to close his office door behind him and promptly turn up the thermostat. He walked in silence towards his desk, sitting down in his chair, placing his briefcase at his feet, and lifting the lid to his laptop.

Raymond had been coming into work two hours early every day since his detectives had been sentenced for their false crimes last Thursday. The captain wanted to take any and every opportunity he could to work on their case and free them from the hell Melanie Hawkins had trapped them in.

There was only one other member of his squad who Raymond knew was aware of his pre-nine o'clock arrivals - just in case their torturous new reality ever caused them to need him for anything in a more private setting.

And yet, as he heard the chiming of the elevator echo in the open space behind his closed door and pulled blinds, Raymond still looked up in confusion as that very, one person came aggressively barrelling into his office at full pace.

Captain Holt frowned at Detective Santiago. And between all her exhausted huffs and puffs, and what sounded like a reluctant sob wobbling it's way up her throat, Amy opened her mouth to speak.

"I'll do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and song lyrics by Shinedown.
> 
> Okay okay, so I realise at the end of the last chapter I mentioned my hope to not be away for too long between updates this time... I'm also now realising that I probably need to stop making promises.. :)
> 
> Buttttt, hopefully the newly added drama in this latest chapter will be enough to earn me some forgiveness! I'd love to hear what you all thought here, and also any predictions for what will happen with Amy and her mission and whether she'll actually go ahead with it! Please feel free to leave comments and kudos! They give me life!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I know I am still very much loving writing this one, and will be back sometime soon with the next update :)
> 
> Until next time! x


	4. Self Help

_And it cuts like a knife,_  
_It feels like a fight,  
_ _To take back your life._

* * *

**Tuesday, Aug 29th  
** **Day Five**

Amy's hard-eyed stare remained glue to the wall directly opposite her. She barely even flinched when the door to her captain's office closed back into place and Raymond rejoined her.

The only movement she made was that of her fingers as she rolled the plastic ring between them where it sat in the pocket of her pantsuit.

Her brown orbs flicked over to the very corner of Holt's desk as he gently place Amy's steaming coffee mug down, gesturing for her to take a sip. Amy hesitated. But soon enough, the detective leaned forward, looking up at Captain Holt and nodding her head just once.

"Thank you, sir."

The three near-mute syllables from her were some of the only words to fill the small space since Amy first burst through Raymond's office door about ten minutes earlier.

The previous silence quickly swallowed them both up all over again, though, as Raymond slowly sat down at his desk. He closed the lid to his laptop, taking his hand to his face and rubbing his chin in deep thought.

After another moment or two, Raymond raised a curious eyebrow at Amy.

"Roughly sixteen hours to make a decision that could potentially affect your next fifteen years," he stated simply, "That's not like you."

A small smirk popped up in the corner of Amy's lips.

"Let's be honest, sir. I haven't exactly been acting like myself  _at all_ over the past five days."

Raymond was quick to match the irony in Amy's expression. He certainly couldn't disagree with her there. But the point she made didn't particularly quell any of his concerns.

"Santiago. While I understand I stressed the urgency that came with you deciding whether or not to go through with this operation, I feel obligated to question if perhaps, all of a sudden... you're thinking irrationally?"

"I'm not," Amy immediately snapped back, "I know I've been super heated this past week, and I've been letting my work suffer because of it, and I haven't wanted anything to do with the case, and I  _know_ it sounds crazy..."

She stopped for a short second to take a breath.

"But I was only acting that way because I was so mad. Because I'm still so hurt," she admitted quietly, "And I mean... I just faced some super, harsh realisations last night that told me deep down I've been taking all that hurt out on him... on  _Jake,_ like, somehow I've been wanting to hurt Jake as much as he hurt me. But that's not fair on him. And it's not fair on Rosa, either."

Nodding along with each new argument she offered, Captain Holt fell to hesitation. Did he believe everything his detective was telling him? Maybe. Certainly a lot more than he had believed her initial proclamation when she exploded through his door that morning.

Raymond only hoped that Amy understood the pain she was feeling wasn't ever meant to cause her as much heartbreak as Jake intended - or so the wise captain suspected.

"I know you're hurting," he conceded, "And I know it's no business of the squad's, and certainly no business of mine, but knowing how reckless and impulsive Peralta can be, I don't believe his intentions were ever to cause you so much anguish on purpose, I think that - "

"I know," Amy suddenly cut back in. She noted the confusion that slumped into her captain's face as she forced her way through a second, small grin, "I know, sir. Jake never really did master the art of subtlety."

The lame attempt at humour left the detective with a whispered chuckle. She pushed through all the tormenting memories in her mind of that evening in her boyfriend's holding cell as she properly gathered her thoughts.

"I understand exactly what Jake was doing. He thought that me waiting for him out here was him being selfish. So when I wouldn't let him press pause on us... he decided the only thing he could do was break my heart for real," she spoke carefully, snorting under her breath, "Little did he know how much it was actually going to work..."

The soft sympathy remained in her captain's eyes as Holt looked on at Santiago with pride in everything she had finally been able to admit to herself. For a short second after that, his expression faltered.

"And... your promotion?"

Amy held down a shudder as she shook her head clear of any thought even remotely linked to her Sergeants' Exam, "I'll re-take the test. In three years. Or, um... whenever I come back."

"That was never part of the life calendar."

"The life calendar... isn't important," Amy spoke, choosing to leave out the details of her prize possession's ultimate demise. She soon turned quiet again for a moment or two - one hand tightening around her coffee mug, and the other clutching with absolute desperation at the tiny ring hidden in her pocket.

As she ran the end of her finger along the inside of the plastic band, the detective suddenly leaned forward, placing her coffee back on her captain's desk and clearing her throat.

"It isn't important," she repeated, "Nothing else in my life is as important as this. Because I'm not living the life that I want if Jake's not in it."

The words felt like a light-bending epiphany as they slowly left her lips. She swallowed down a sob in the back of her throat and quickly wiped the tiniest tear from the very corner of her eye.

"I love him. I want him home. Him and Rosa."

In the immediate quiet that followed, Amy swore that the sound of a pin being dropped from the roof all the way down to the Brooklyn streets below could be heard from anywhere in the building.

She used every ounce of willpower she had to not turn her intimidated eyes away from Captain Holt's as he continued to stare right through her. Detective Santiago could see all too clearly how much the cogs in his brain were suddenly turning. She knew how her captain worked. And she knew that right then and there, he was deciding whether or not to trust that she was truly ready to do this.

As the older police officer took his hand away from his face and slowly came forward in his chair, Raymond nodded just once at Amy.

"Alright. Let's get to work."

* * *

Given all that had transpired over the last five days, Charles was certain that nothing about walking into the precinct that morning had the ability to surprise him.

That was, of course, until he spied a tall take-out cup sitting on his desk beside his keyboard.

As a confused frown collapsed into his brow, Charles sort of spun around on the spot and allowed his eyes to scan the bullpen. Nearly every seat he spotted was empty, as was the kitchen, the break room, and the briefing room. Not that any of that was too unusual - it was only about eight-forty in the morning, after all. Boyle had been taking a note out of his captain's book and arriving a little earlier to work, and leaving a little later every evening to go home.

There simply weren't enough hours in the day that Charles could use trying to win Jake and Rosa their freedom back.

The ever haunting thought continued to drum in the back of the detective's mind as he took a step towards his desk with a shrug of his shoulders. When he picked up the coffee cup and his eyes fell on the small, yellow sticky-note attached to the lid, Charles felt his chest freeze for a second.

_A. xo_

And then, as if on cue, Boyle heard the door to the copy room click open. When Santiago stepped into the hallway and reappeared in the bullpen, the older detective glanced up at her in surprise.

She held his uncertain eye contact for a moment or two, until Amy finally turned the very corner of her lips up and shot him an apologetic smile. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. As soon as Charles mirrored the soft grin in her expression, Amy knew that her friend had forgiven her for her crazy outburst the day before. In all honesty, Boyle was just relieved to see Santiago much more neat and tidy and put together than she had been since the very last moment of the trial all those days ago.

Little did he know, of course, his co-worker had sneaked back home to shower and change and freshen up before re-arriving at work -  _still_  beating everyone else despite her early morning meeting with Captain Holt.

Charles placed his satchel on his desk chair and took a quick sip of his coffee. Just as he cleared his throat and considered parting his lips to speak to Amy, the two were suddenly interrupted by the robotic voice of their captain.

"Santiago?"

Her name was the only sound to escape him before Raymond vanished back behind his office door as swiftly as he had appeared.

Remaining in her place for only half a second, Amy turned her head back towards Charles. She offered him another friendly smile and heaved her shoulders in a small shrug, before once again joining Raymond in the private confines of his office.

With the door closed and the blinds drawn, Charles felt a curious frown dip into the crease between his eyes, before simply shaking off the thought and sitting down at his desk. There was nothing particularly strange about the subtlety of it all. Even if Amy had managed to pull herself together with more success than she had all week, she was still clearly going to need as much added support as Raymond was willing to offer her.

So almost an hour later when Amy didn't even join the squad for their morning briefing, Charles was still none the wiser.

The two empty chairs in the centre of the briefing room still shot a dull shiver up the spines of all those who worked on the fourth floor of the Ninety-Ninth precinct. The constant reminder of Jake and Rosa's absence was more than enough to keep everyone solemnly silent as Sergeant Jeffords entered through the double doors and approached the small lectern.

"Alright, squad, listen up," the sergeant began, straightening out his notes, "Captain Holt has asked me to lead this morning's briefing, so - "

"Uh, wait, why?" Gina asked with immediate scepticism, "What have he and Amy been dishing about all morning?"

"Well, seeing as I assumed it was none of my business," Terry replied with a knowing stare in the assistant's direction, "I didn't ask."

"Okay, fine," Gina snapped back, folding her arms over her protruding stomach, "I'm just sayin' - Holt shouldn't have to hand out any kind of preferential treatment. I'm sure there's some kind of life-sucking TED Talk on anger management we could just make Amy watch instead."

"C'mon, Gina, give her a break," Charles spoke, swivelling around in his seat to glance at his step sister, "Yes, Amy's a little on edge right now, but she's trying to do better. I'll have you know this morning she apologised to me for her harmless slip of the tongue yesterday."

"Harmless slip of the tongue?" Gina repeated with a snort of disbelief, "Well, that's great for you, Boyle, but I never got my apology."

"For  _what_?"

"Did you see that death glare she shot at me and my little unborn superstar yesterday? No-one would  _dare_ look at Beyoncé like that when she was carrying Rumi and Sir," she explained to muffled groans throughout the room, "And all that after I was actually nice to her last week?"

Charles raised a stern eyebrow, "She's going through a lot."

"So are the rest of us, Charles," Gina exclaimed with bite, "And no matter what she thinks, she's not the only one feeling screwed over by this whole damn situation. How was it that I over-heard you describing what it feels like to be separated from Jake?"

Charles' answer was immediate as his tone remained flat, "Like ten thousand sharp needles being stabbed through each of my vital organs from my tongue to my genitals by the devil himself."

"So then, dear brother, who's side are you  _really_ on?"

"That's enough!" Terry suddenly boomed from his commanding post. His squad all jumped in their seats in simultaneous surprise as the sergeant shook his head, "You should all be ashamed of yourselves. All this talk of taking sides and who's on whose team."

A few pairs of timid eyes began to fall to the floor throughout the room. Terry watched on as they did - his muscular grip on the lectern loosening as he finally spoke with a soft sigh.

"We're all hurting. All of us. But now is not the time to be taking that hurt out on one another and playing the blame game. We need to be holding each other up, not dragging each other down," he urged, pausing, "We're  _all_ a team - and we need to start acting like it. We owe it to Jake and Rosa."

The intense quiet that filled the briefing room flooded the thoughts of everyone and sent their brains awash with dreaded images of Peralta and Diaz locked away in their tiny prison cells.

When it came right down to it, Charles and Gina felt simply helpless. Their emotions mirrored one another's, and while they might have each been choosing to share them in the complete opposite manner, all they both truly wanted was for everything to go back to normal so that their colleagues, their friends, their squad, their  _family_ could be happy again.

They both knew Terry wanted the same, too. But with Amy's sanity supposedly hanging by a thread, and Captain Holt being locked up in his office twelve hours a day - someone had to step in as the stern, level-headed leader.

"Now, let's start by quickly running through the uniform officers' duties for the day," the sergeant spoke again, "And then Boyle, Hitchcock, Scully - we'll look at our next steps in tracking Hawkins and Langdon. Hopefully we'll have Santiago join us later today, too."

Gina could still sense a sour cynicism dwelling within her as she subtly rolled her eyes, "Doubt it..."

Charles shot a sad glance downwards at Gina's spiteful tone he had just managed to hear echo from behind him. He wasn't done with trying to convince her to give Amy a break - not by a long shot.

Because Terry was right. If they had any hope of getting Jake and Rosa back - whether that be in the next fifteen days, fifteen weeks, or fifteen years - they needed to work together.

They needed to be the unstoppable, well-oiled machine that the whole of Brooklyn knew they really were.

"Wait, wait, wait," Scully suddenly spluttered from his seat the back of the room, "...Where  _is_ Amy, anyway?"

"Scully!" Terry spat back at him in disbelief, "Have you not been paying attention to a single word any of us have said in the last five minutes! She's having a meeting in Captain Holt's office!"

The older office shrugged his shoulders curiously, "Well, what  _kind_ of meeting?"

"The  _secret_ kind," Terry responded through gritted teeth.

"Ha, ah I see how it is," Hitchcock chimed in with a nod of his head as he knowingly crossed his arms, "Well, if it's one of  _those_ kind of secret meetings, they really might want to think about keeping the blinds drawn."

And for the first time that morning, the entire briefing room could finally agree on one shared thought.

"HITCHCOCK!"

* * *

"Remind me again, Detective," Raymond spoke as he continued to pace across the floor of his office, "Which languages would you consider yourself proficient in?"

Amy frowned as she glanced up at her captain from the pile of papers and newly scribbled notes she had strewn all over his desk. At the plain curiosity evident in her face, Captain Holt cleared his throat as he went on.

"For your undercover persona?"

The crease in Amy's brow instantly deepened, "You don't want me to just be Cuban?"

Raymond dismissed the suggestion with a shake of his head, "The risk is far too great," he began to explain, "We need to ensure that whomever you are while undercover is somebody as far away from Detective Amy Santiago as possible. We know what Hawkins is capable of doing to good cops who infiltrate her operations."

A daunting sense of understanding washed over Amy as her eyes flicked down to the set of mugshots of the five innocent officers that still lined Holt's desk.

The detective sighed, tightening the grip on her pen, "Well, a part from English and Spanish..." she hesitated, "Portuguese, French, enough Russian to get by, um - "

While there was no doubt that Amy still had an impressive point or two to add to her linguistic resume, the two Brooklyn officers were suddenly cut off in the middle of their conversation by the sound of Raymond's office door flying open.

What instantly followed was a purely detestable sound that rumbled from Captain Holt's stomach and echoed through his gritted teeth.

"Hello, Raymond."

Amy's eyes widened in surprise. Wuntch.

"Madeline," the captain replied with enough disdain to make Santiago squirm uncomfortably.

"Apologies for barging in here so suddenly," she spoke, her words dripping with obvious sarcasm, "I do hope I wasn't interrupting anything?"

"It's funny, Madeline, I failed to even hear you screeching through the skies or crash landing onto the roof of my precinct," Raymond spat back at her, "Tell me, how is Daenerys Targaryen?"

Amy slid further down into her seat, muttering to herself under her breath, "How does he even know that reference..."

"What's even funnier is you likening me to such a powerful creature and seeing it as an insult."

"Yes, well, perhaps tell that to your over-grown talons and repulsive dragon-breath."

Finally bolting upright in her chair and springing to her feet, Amy awkwardly tried to gather the papers around her in pursuit of a hasty exit, "Uh, sir, should I, um - should I just leave the two of you to it?"

"No, I'm sure that's quite alright, Detective," Raymond answered, deadpanning back towards Madeline, "I doubt Chief Wuntch will keep us too long when she has to retreat back to her coffin before the sun reaches its highest point of the day."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Madeline quipped, embracing her enemy's latest insult, "In fact, I highly suggest you take what I've come to discuss with you with the upmost seriousness. Less you want any more life being sucked out of your precinct."

Amy sensed her heart skip an uncertain beat at the foreboding tone in Madeline's voice. Though, Raymond, of course, remained stern-faced. That was, until, the wrinkly, old blonde before him opened her mouth to speak again.

"But, first - how do I know you're not wearing a wire?"

Immediately, Amy's expression dropped.

"O-okay, I'm just, uh, I'm just gonna' go," the detective stuttered, scrambling for all her papers before making a mad dash from the confined office back to the open space of the bullpen.

Wuntch watched with keen interest for a second or two as she spied a couple of documents fall from Santiago's arms to the carpeted floor. And then, the older woman turned back to Holt with a coy grin.

After an excruciatingly long nine and a half minute pat-down (a new record, mind you), Raymond finally felt Madeline wrench him back around to face her. The intensity in his eyes matched that of his arch-rival's.

"So, tell me, Madeline, why is it that you've decided to grace my precinct with your mind-numbing presence this morning?" Holt asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he about-faced, turning his back to her, "Perhaps you're in need of some advice for a new police mascot? I'd, of course, be the first to nominate yourself as a candidate, but I don't believe the  _snake_ is a common staple of New York."

Wuntch resisted any typical reaction to the smug tone in Holt's voice that was all too familiar to her. She remained firm-footed in her place - her shoulders back and her chin confidently facing upwards as she let his words simply wash over her. And then, a smirk appeared across the Police Chief's mouth.

"I hear you have a Melanie Hawkins problem?"

The hustle and bustle of the busy New York streets below his precinct seemed to come to a complete standstill as Raymond felt his spine stiffen in its place at Madeline's words.

The captain's jaw was left gaping in an uncertain form of shock before he cleared his throat and relaxed his surprised demeanour as best he could. Taking a single step to his right to turn back around and face her, Raymond raised a curious eyebrow.

"And why would a potential dispute between myself and Lieutenant Hawkins be any concern of yours?"

The knowing grin remained plastered to Wuntch's face, "Raymond, do you know who originally held command over Hawkins and the rest of her squad before she was promoted to lieutenant?"

His dumbfounded silence told her all she needed to know as Wuntch screwed her fist up into an aggravated ball, "It was  _me._ That was my squad - it had been for years."

Captain Holt's eyes widened with disbelief, " _Your_ squad? How is that even conceivable - why are you only informing me of this now?"

"One of the only little known facts about me, I suppose. Melanie made damn sure of that," Madeline explained through gritted teeth, "She was my sergeant, directly under my command, until she decided she no longer agreed with the way I chose to run my operations. She concocted a clever little plan to get me promoted and shipped off to PR while she snatched up the position of lieutenant for herself."

An ironic smile settled into Raymond's expression for a moment as he shook his head, "Oh, so that's where you learned that dastardly little trick," he quipped, "Why are you  _actually_ telling me all this? Is this the part where we sympathise with each other and decide to work together to take Hawkins down for good?"

Madeline remained completely still for just half a second. And then, she simply shrugged her shoulders.

Raymond narrowed his eyes at her, "You can't be serious?"

"How about we drop all the subtleties and political correctness, Raymond," Wuntch offered, "Hawkins framed your detectives and threw the both of them in prison. There's no way either of them are guilty - Diaz isn't that stupid, and Peralta's too much of a goody two-shoes."

Captain Holt's mind was suddenly racing at a mile a minute, but he didn't dare verbalise a single one of his thoughts. He knew how dangerous it was to speculate the integrity of one of New York's finest lieutenants, even in the safe confines of his office, and  _especially_ in the presence of no-one other than Police Chief Madeline Wuntch.

Clearly growing tired of his ever-lingering distrust, Wuntch rolled her eyes, allowing them to fall all the way to the floor where Santiago had let slip a couple of documents in her earlier haste. Curiously, the older woman reached down, picking up the slim pile of papers and instantly flipping them over.

A solemn frown settled into Madeline's face.

"Sergeant Melissa Ambrose," she spoke simply, placing the mugshot down on Raymond's desk to face him, "How long as she been inside for now? Two years? Three?"

Holt hesitated before matching the sombre tone in his colleague's voice, "Three and a half."

There was a moment of silence before Wuntch licked her bottom lip to speak again, "Her son was only four when she was arrested, correct?"

Raymond sensed the uncharacteristic sadness sink deep into his chest.

"Yes."

The quiet understanding between the two veteran detectives spoke volumes as they stared down at the heartbroken expression in the old, faded mugshot. Holt would be damned if he was going to sit back and watch one week inside turn into multiple weeks or months or  _years_  for his two detectives.

"What do you want, Madeline?"

The question seemed to throw her for a split second as the Police Chief merely raised an eyebrow at her nemesis.

"If I agree to you providing your assistance to our joint cause," he specified, "What exactly are you looking for in return?"

The wicked grin that tugged at the corner of Madeline's lips was instantaneous. There truly was nothing sweeter than a well earned pay off.

"Well, now, you see," she began, crossing her arms as she paced around the chair in front of Raymond's desk, "That's actually the easiest part."

Raymond remained awfully dubious, with good reason, as he waited for Madeline to turn around and laugh in his face and spout off demand after impossible demand. What would she ask for this time around? Raymond's money? His complete resignation from the force? For him to confess to Diaz and Peralta's accused crimes himself?

Or maybe, as it turned out, it really was going to be a whole lot easier than all that.

"Melanie Hawkins has spent years laughing behind my back and spitting in my face as she parades herself as the leader of a squad that was truly mine," she began to explain, "And, yes, perhaps it may have been a blessing in disguise seeing as  _I'm_ now the one with more power than she could ever dream of holding. But none of that is a worthy enough substitute for the revenge I still owe her."

Her words were thick and filled with threatening promise as Raymond kept a careful eye on Madeline's every move. She took a second step towards him, her unshaken confidence still as firm as it had been when she stepped foot in the Ninety-Ninth precinct that morning. Holt had been on the receiving end of that menacing glare of hers more times than he could count. Surely he had to have even the slightest inclination of what she planned on saying next.

And yet, Wuntch's proposition only continued to completely surprise him.

"So, here's what I propose. I'm willing to go along with any hair-brained scheme you and your detectives can come up with. But when you  _catch her_ , Raymond," Madeline sniped, punctuating her counterpart's name with a sharp prod to his chest, "It's not going to be you filing the arrest report, or receiving praise for your genius, or standing at a podium with congratulations from the mayor. It's going to be  _me_."

Her mouth curled up in another snarl, "I want that dirty, conniving, drug-abusing worm to know that  _I'm_ the one who ruined her career, like she tried to ruin mine."

There were a few beats of suspicious quiet that filled the air of the captain's office as he fell to total speechlessness. Raymond was almost afraid to move a single muscle or make a single sound at the risk of Madeline reverting her petty demand for something much more sinister. A frown dropped into his brow with careful hesitation.

"...That's it?"

His uncertainty made Madeline chuckle, "That's it," she confirmed, "I know my word isn't taken for gospel around here, least of all by you, but it really is that simple. You get your psycho ninja warrior and your little pet project back - and all I want is the credit."

If Raymond hadn't been so wary of her, he would have moved to pinch himself. Instead, the captain remained frozen where he stood behind his desk, his orbs sharply narrowed and his jaw hanging slightly open. Madeline simply rolled her eyes again. She supposed she couldn't blame her nemesis for his obvious suspicion. But she also knew that Raymond, more so than  _anyone,_ should have completely understood her desperate need to cut her adversary down in such public fashion.

After all, she had only tried to do to Holt exactly what Hawkins had done to her.

Sometimes the most subtle and calculated forms or revenge were all that was needed to truly satisfy a years-long grudge.

"Do you  _have_ a plan?" Madeline questioned, choosing to ignore Raymond's doubtful gaze.

Taking every extra moment of prolonged silence he could afford, Captain Holt carefully continued to examine the supposed sincerity offered by Chief Wuntch.

Did he trust her? Not a chance.

But was he willing to work with her if it meant bringing Peralta and Diaz home? Absolutely.

"I may be begun to initiate some form of a plan, yes..." he explained tentatively, "You may or may not be aware of this, but Hawkins has multiple crews of dirty cops working for her all over the country."

Madeline nodded her head in confirmation, "She's leading something much bigger than the state of New York can handle."

"Which I why I've proposed to place a detective undercover in one of her out-of-state syndicates. To uncover as much dirt as they possibly can and tie it back to Hawkins and all the false arrests she's made against each of the offices affected," Raymond cleared his throat as he went on, "All I'll need for right now is a legitimate excuse to remove the chosen detective from their active duties so they slip into their undercover role unnoticed."

With a second nod of her head, Wuntch hesitated the captain's request, "I can easily have them removed from the precinct. No questions asked," she confirmed, "Although, I am curious as to who you've selected to undertake this mission? I can't see Jeffords leaving his family for an extended period of time, and Boyle might not exactly be syndicate material?"

Raymond fell back to a stern quiet. He tried as desperately as he could to not allow his facial expression to give away any of the concerns or thoughts dancing across his mind. It sure sounded easy enough. But when his dark coloured eyes flicked over to the door of his office for only the most micro of milliseconds, Madeline narrowed her accusing glare at him.

"Oh, you must be joking? Santiago?" she scolded with an evil sneer, "Not that I particularly care to keep up with the incestuous nature of your precinct, Raymond, but couldn't that be considered a conflict of interest?"

Trying all he could to keep his emotions out of his voice, Captain Holt's tone was unwavering as he shrugged his shoulders, "I believe you'll find the conflict has been temporarily resolved."

Madeline snorted, "So, what, she dumped him? How are you so sure she even cares enough to save her convict ex-boyfriend?"

For the very first time in all their years as both colleagues and enemies, an immediate response failed to escape Raymond as he simply stated right through Madeline.

Maybe it was the incorrect assumption she had made about his detectives and their break-up, or maybe it was the insane weight of pure stress and anxiety he had been shouldering for the past five days, or  _maybe_ it was simply the image of Amy's heart-broken exterior that had taken up a permanent residency in his mind - but whatever it was,  _something_ in Raymond's face revealed to Madeline that she truly had this all wrong.

"Oh," she spoke in realisation, "Oh, wait just one second.  _He_ broke up with  _her_?"

The blank slate that was Raymond's features gave Madeline the only answer she needed.

As an ironic chuckle echoed loudly from the back of her throat, Chief Wuntch shook her head in disbelief and turned back around, reaching for the brass door handle to Captain Holt's office.

This so-called ingenious undercover mission of his was certainly about to get a whole lot more interesting.

"Oh, Raymond," she hummed with another belittling laugh. Her eyes met his with a wicked grin before she slipped out of his office, "I do hope you know what you're doing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and lyrics by Good Charlotte.
> 
> First of all, hey!
> 
> Second of all, I'm sorry. I literally have zero excuses for why this update took so long. I just hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Thirdly, holyyy molyyy, didn't we all go through something with that whole FOX, NBC, cancel, un-cancel mess of a twenty-four hours a few months ago. I've never felt so much whiplash, BUT more importantly, I've never felt so much happiness to have a TV show revitalised. :)
> 
> Any thoughts, predictions, kudos, comments, reviews are always greatly appreciated!
> 
> Until next time! x


End file.
